


No Place Like Home

by LaufeyOfThay



Series: Thayvian Tales [12]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaufeyOfThay/pseuds/LaufeyOfThay
Summary: Another look into the distant past, and an important lesson to be learned. Two Best Friends find themselves entangled with magic, mayhem...and monsters.
Series: Thayvian Tales [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717807
Kudos: 1





	1. Pretend Games

The Assassin’s Guild never really slept. To be sure, even professional killers need to rest sometimes, but there was always some kind of activity going on. People coming and going from and to their various assignments, late night wanderers up for a snack or a stroll to the library, the occasional insomniac trying to get exhausted in the practice halls. Still, by three in the morning at least most of the members would usually either be out working or sound asleep in bed. And certainly bed was where all the apprentices were supposed to be at this time of night. 

Of course, young and inquisitive people are rarely likely to let themselves be limited by where they are supposed to be, much preferring to go where they’re not allowed to. 

The careful observer might have been able to spot the two small shadows standing furtively outside a large wooden door in a fairly secluded part of the building. They seemed to be fiddling with the lock, which happened to be a both heavy and complicated one. Now and then they whispered to each other, or glanced along the corridor to make certain no interfering adult was about to pounce upon them. Their very stance seemed to scream ‘guilty’. 

“Will you be done soon, Dekkie?” whispered the first shadowy figure, tugging impatiently at her companion’s sleeve. A tiny halfling girl, with a round and cheerful face and red cheeks, she was wearing a tunic and pants so dark a red as to be almost black, and in her bouncing brown corkscrew locks she wore a matching red ribbon. 

“I’ll never be done if you keep interrupting me, Poppy,” her companion retorted with an impatient little sigh. “And haven’t I told you to stop calling me that?” 

“Yup!” the halfling happily admitted, grinning affectionately at her friend. “But I think it sounds really cute. It suits you. And besides, I’m your Best Friend, which means I’m allowed!” 

The boy sighed quietly in defeat, shook his head and went back to work on the lock. He looked to be maybe nine or ten, but it was difficult to say for certain since he was small for his age. He was taller than the halfling girl certainly, but not by all that very much, and his body was slight. Pushing his unruly black hair out of his eyes he concentrated on the lock again, his face intensely focused and serious. “Never mind,” he said. “We haven’t got the time for arguing. I think I’ve almost got it now, so if you can just stop pestering me for a few seconds…” 

Poppy seemed about to say something, but contented herself with shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. A few moments later the lock clicked open. “Told you I could do it,” the boy said with a small and triumphant grin, nudging his friend. “Typical Terlbottom’s Lock Number Nine. Took me a week to study up on it, but there you go. And you owe me a lollipop, as per our bet. You really shouldn’t doubt me, you know.” 

“I’m a bit short on pocket money right now,” Poppy tried. She smiled sweetly. “How about…if I sing you a nice little song instead?” 

“Poppy, I **won** the bet, remember?” The black-haired boy leaned on the door with all his not-so-significant weight, pushing it open with some effort. “One lollipop, no weaseling out of it. You wouldn’t want me to work for free anyway, would you, even if it doesn’t involve killing anybody? That would be very inappropriate.” 

The two apprentice assassins quietly slipped through the door and closed it behind them. Once they had lit the candle they had brought with them, they stared at the wonderful contents of the room, their eyes round with excitement. 

Assassination sometimes required working undercover for periods of time, and though many of the Guild members kept a few disguises around for such purposes, the Costume Department was still a great asset. Here you might find clothes and props belonging to all parts of society, as well as makeup to further aid in creating the perfect disguise. 

The costumes were crammed tightly into the room, and there seemed to be hundreds of them, silk and velvet sharing space with rags. The elegant attire of nobles and royalty, beggars’ rags, the clothes of honest craftsmen like bakers, smiths or carpenters, a jester’s motley, the colorful and flashy costume of an acrobat, and many, many more. To the children it was a veritable treasure trove of entertainment, and they gave each other a look of pure delight. 

Of course the apprentices weren’t really allowed in here, but the pair was of the considered opinion that it would be a terrible shame to waste such a wonderful place on boring and unappreciative grownups. Besides, the fact that it was forbidden made it all the more exciting. It was certainly going to be worth all the trouble of sneaking out of bed and picking the lock. 

Poppy squealed with delight and started rapidly going through the costumes hanging along one wall. She had a fair idea of what she wanted; the only problem would be finding something she wouldn’t trip over. Eventually she came across the perfect dress. It was pure white, with a purple underskirt showing through the lace and frills, and it stood out around her legs like a fluffy cream cake. Having originally been designed to function as a ballet dancer’s dress, and to end somewhere around mid-thigh level, the dress trailed on the floor behind the tiny halfling, strongly resembling a ball gown. _Perfect_ , Poppy thought. _Just perfect. I’ll be the prettiest princess ever!_

Then, however, she noticed the maroon scarf with the bright yellow spots, the impressive eye patch and the old cutlass that were lying in one corner of the room, and her heart suddenly felt torn in two. Princesses were pretty, but pirates were dangerous. “Dekkie?” she asked. “Do you think I should be a princess or a pirate?” 

Her friend made a muffled sound in reply. He was currently hanging across the rim of an enormous clothes chest, head down and only his thin legs sticking out. After some careful acrobatics he finally emerged, with a thin, lacy and feminine little garment nestled precariously on top of his black curls. “I’m sure I have no idea what that thing is…” he said, looking bemused as he tossed the tiny piece of delicate cloth aside. “It looks awfully cold and uncomfortable; I really can’t see why anybody would want to wear it. What was it you said?” 

“Pirate or Princess?” Poppy repeated, holding the eye patch up in front of one glittering brown eye. 

The boy studied her for a moment, considering. “Both,” he firmly declared. “Definitely both.” 

Poppy nodded, pleased with having had her own opinion confirmed, and went back to dressing up. 

Meanwhile, the male half of the duo kept browsing the costumes. Unlike the halfling he was simply searching at random. Having amused himself with trying out the most exotic costumes he could find, including one with an enormous horned helmet that kept slipping down to cover his eyes, he was feeling really pleased. One ghastly hot pink outfit was given a disgusted grimace. He wouldn’t wear that one if his life depended on it, that was certain. Finally he came across something very interesting. There, hidden deeply between a bunch of sailor suits and soldiers’ uniforms, was a flash of bright red. The boy pushed the surrounding garments aside, and then he froze in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat. 

When Poppy looked up from her task of trying to make appropriately piratey throat sounds, at the same time as curtseying in court fashion, she gasped at the sight of what her friend was up to. He was slipping into a beautiful and very expensive-looking mage robe, richly embroidered with gold thread. It wasn’t just any mage robe either. This was the blood red robe of a genuine Red Wizard. 

“Er…Dekkie?” Poppy said. “Are you sure you should…” 

“Mmmm?” the boy said. He was standing in front of the full-length mirror on the wall, pulling up the deep cowl of the robe, his eyes fixed on his own mirror image. The robe was naturally much too large for him, being made for an adult. It pooled on the floor around his feet, and he had been forced to roll up the sleeves so they wouldn’t reach his knees. And yet…there was a certain rightness about the way he looked, Poppy thought, though she couldn’t explain what made her think that. 

It seemed to her that there was suddenly a tension in the air, like a tingling current. The halfling swallowed nervously as she watched her Best Friend. He had gone very pale, even more so than usual, and in his thin face his eyes resembled black holes, as cold and empty as the night itself. It almost seemed as if he was staring beyond the mirror, at something that he and he alone was able to see. Then she caught sight of his lips moving, and she strained her ears to catch the unfamiliar words. 

“Rashar ne’vrenn un schyzzal, vadja,” he whispered, sounding as if he was reciting from memory. “Rashar vrenn un sala’ar... Rashar vrenn un djor. Missje, vadja. Missje...“ 

He reached out his hand towards the mirror, as if to touch the boy inside, and then startled slightly as his fingers made contact with cool glass rather than with human flesh. 

Poppy carefully edged closer, then touched her friend’s arm, hoping she wouldn’t spook him. “Dekkie?” she whispered. “Are you all right?” 

The boy turned his head around, blinking with some surprise as he came back to the present. “What…” he said. “Oh. Yes, Poppy. I…will be all right. Just…remembered something, that’s all. But thanks for asking.” 

“Those things you were saying, what…” 

A small shrug effectively cut off the halfling’s question. “Never mind. It makes no difference any more. Just…something I was told when I was little. It was a long time ago.” 

“And that would have been how long ago, young Dekaras?” an adult voice broke in. “One year? Two?” 

Both children gave highly undignified yelps of surprise at the Voice of Authority coming from directly behind them. As they turned around, it was with no small amount of dread that they spotted Luca Gorbia, the Head of the Surthay Assassin’s Guild, watching them intently with an unreadable expression on his deceptively open and honest face. 

“It seems to me,” Gorbia said, “that you two are in a place where you should not be. One might almost think you were being willfully disobedient. Have you any comments to make to this?” 

“Well…” Poppy said in a faltering voice. “We were…playing.” Her friend said nothing, but his eyes narrowed and he kept glaring defiantly at the Guild Master in a manner that would have looked very intimidating if his age and height had been three times their current numbers, and if it hadn’t been for the wizard robe hanging like a red tent on his small body. 

Gorbia inspected the room, which looked as if a hurricane had swept through it. There were clothes lying in heaps all over the floor, in complete disarray. “I see,” he said, his face neutral. “Playing what? Storm of Vengeance? Invading Horde?” 

Poppy smiled brightly, spreading the skirts of her frilly white dress while brandishing her cutlass, a maneuver that came dangerously close to making her fall over. “I’m a Pirate Princess,” she proudly stated. “Don’t I look neat? And Dekkie is being a wizard, aren’t you, Dekkie?” 

The boy flinched slightly, a fact not lost on the observant Gorbia. “No, I’m not!” he said shortly, and started pulling the robe off as quickly and jerkily as if it burned him. “That would be pretending, and I don’t pretend. I just wanted to see what it looked like.” He didn’t meet the Guild Master’s eyes though, and his hands were trembling just a little bit. 

“Hm,” Gorbia said, his voice neutral. “Interested in disguises, are you? Commendable, despite the chaos you’ve caused. Now, that mage robe is a rather special item, customized for a special guest of ours.” He gave a brief smile. “I believe I shall arrange for you both to meet him. That would also serve as an excellent punishment for making mischief – he did mention that he wanted a pair of apprentices to help fetch and carry for him. Now, to bed with you. And don’t even think about getting sidetracked.” Shooing the children out of the room he watched the mess on the floor for a few moments. _Yes. This will be very suitable, I think._

“Whew, that was scary,” Poppy said as the two apprentice assassin headed towards their rooms. “Don’t you think so too? The way he just pops out of nowhere like that…” 

“He’s very good,” the young Dekaras agreed. “I want to be able to do that one day. Think I will?” 

“Sure! You’re really good at sneaking, you know.” Poppy grinned and nudged her friend in the side. “Yep, you’re almost as good as a halfling. Say, you can be an honorary halfling if you want! You’re not too big, and you’re clever enough. No furry feet though…that’s a shame.” 

“Poppy, I think I’ll be able to survive quite well without furry feet, thanks very much. And anyway, I will get bigger. I hope.” 

“Suit yourself then, but if you had furry feet you wouldn’t need to wear boots in the winter. Hm, how about if I cut some of your hair off? We could glue it onto your feet!” 

The boy clasped his hands protectively about his head. “Don’t you dare!” 

“Aw, come on! I’m your Best Friend. Don’t you trust me?” 

“Not when it comes to hairdressing, I don’t! I’m not letting you get close to my head with any scissors. Even if you managed not to give me pointed elf ears, you’d probably make me bald. I still remember when you shaved that dog, you know.” 

Poppy spread her arms. “He was hot! I was only trying to be helpful. Please? Pretty please?” 

“No, no, and NO! You can’t cut my hair. I don’t even want furry feet. And besides, I’m better at sneaking than you are, furry feet or not.” 

Poppy pouted for a moment. “Yeah, yeah, all right. So you are. But I’m better at pick-pocketing.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says this!” Poppy proudly displayed a paper bag of candy in her open palm. 

“What…that’s mine!” 

“Not any more it isn’t! I stole it, fair and square, so it’s mine now.” And with that, the halfling set off at full speed down the corridor, her Best Friend in hot pursuit. The chase ended a few minutes later, after a brief wrestling match during which their small bodies thumped into many a bedroom door, causing shouts and loud swearing, and eventually made an irate assassin emerge from his room to pull them apart. Only bribing him with the whole supply of candy was enough to deter him from the spanking he was set on meting out. 

Poorer in the sweets department, but with their behinds safe from harm, the two children found that they had reached at least one possible haven from adult chastisement. “Say, Dekkie?” Poppy asked in her sweetest voice. “Mind if I stay the night at your place?” 

The black-haired boy gave her a suspicious look. “Why? You aren’t planning to try to cut my hair while I’m sleeping, are you?” 

“That’s a terrible thing to say! And I don’t have any scissors on me anyway.” 

“Then why?” 

Poppy cleared her throat. “Well…I…um…I’m afraid of the dark, if you really must know. Just a little bit.” 

Her friend looked incredulous. “But…you’re one of the bravest people I know.” 

The halfling shrugged. “Well…everybody’s afraid of something, you know. It’s not the darkness itself, it’s the…bogeymen.” 

“Bogeymen?” 

“You know…furry clawed things, with really sharp teeth. They hide under your bed, or inside your wardrobe. And if you stick your feet or fingers out from under the covers they…they gobble them all up. They love eating little children, especially if you’ve been naughty. My Ma told me all about them. Haven’t you ever heard of them?” 

The boy shook his head. “I guess they’re not necessary back ho…where I’m from.” He shrugged. “All right. I guess you can stay here. Try not to snore too much.” 

Some time later the two children had settled into bed. Since neither of them was very big it easily held them both, with plenty of room to spare. This didn’t stop Poppy from snuggling up as close to her friend as she could, something that caused more than one muffled protest. 

“Stop shoving!” 

“I’m not shoving, I’m snuggling.” 

“Do I look like a stuffed toy to you? If you think…AAAAGH! Your feet are freezing!” 

“No they’re not. They’re nice and furry. Are you sure you don’t want to try them out?” 

“Poppy, give me a rest about the furry feet, why don’t you? Come to think of it, why don’t you give me a rest period? Go to sleep.” 

Three seconds of silence followed, during which everything was dark and peaceful. 

“Dekkie?” 

Deep sigh. “NOW what?” 

“Are you sure there’s no bogeyman under your bed? Only, I thought I heard something…there could be all sorts of weird creatures in here.” 

“You know, I think so too,” came the sarcastic response. “One of them is in my bed right now, trying to cut off the blood circulation in my arm. Please let go before my fingers turn black and start falling off.” 

“Oh. Sorry. But…can you please take a look?” 

“Oh, I suppose so. I guess you’ll keep me up all night if I don’t.” Poppy felt rather than saw her friend scramble across her towards the edge of the bed, and then caught the almost inaudible sound of his feet hitting the floor. Then there was some muffled thumping coming from beneath the bed and some rather creative snarling that ended in a fading gurgle. Poppy bit her nails, hardly even daring to breathe. 

Finally, the halfling drew a deep sigh of relief as she felt her friend climbing back into bed. “All done,” he stated. “That bogeyman won’t bother anybody again.” 

“Thanks, Dekkie!” Poppy said, once again edging closer to her friend and putting her head on his shoulder. This time he didn’t pull away, and after a moment she felt him slip his arm up and put it around her. 

“You’re welcome,” came the sleepy response. “But we don’t really have to be afraid of bogeymen, you know. Either of us.” 

“How come?” 

“Well…once we grow up we’ll be far scarier than they are. We’ll be really dangerous, and nobody will dare mess with us. Ever.” 

Poppy nodded. It sounded like a nice prospect. But somehow, and for some reason she couldn’t quite understand, it also made her feel a little sad.


	2. Emalen

The following morning found the two children standing outside the closed door of one of the Guild’s guest quarters. “A wizard!” Poppy said. “That is so exciting, don’t you think so, Dekkie?” She was practically bouncing up and down with excitement, and the large red bows in her wildly flapping pigtails kept coming dangerously close to smacking her friend in the face. 

“I guess so,” the young Dekaras said, fidgeting just a little bit. He usually tried not to appear overly eager. If you did, it was practically an invitation for the wrong sort of people to use what you wanted against you, or try to take it away. But he had to admit to himself that he was feeling strong anticipation right now. “And stop calling me that, would you?” 

Poppy grinned. “What are you gonna do about it, Dekkie? Kill me? Besides, I know you like it!” 

“I most certainly don’t!” the boy protested, his black eyes radiating affronted dignity. 

“Yes, you do! I can tell!” 

“No I don’t!” 

“Yes you do!” 

“No!” 

“Yes!” 

“NO!” 

“YES!” 

“No…what do you mean, ‘you can tell’?” Dekaras really hoped he didn’t sound too defensive, but he wasn’t entirely sure he’d succeeded. _She couldn’t possibly…could she? And anyway, I don’t like it, so there. No. Absolutely not._

Poppy’s brown eyes twinkled merrily back at him and he could feel most of his annoyance dissolving, which was, of course, an annoyance in itself. But it was very difficult to stay annoyed with the halfling for long. “Well,” Poppy said, “you always say that you hate it…but at the same time you’re almost-smiling.” 

“I’m what?” 

“Almost-smiling. You know. Not with your mouth, but with your eyes. You’re really good at hiding it, but I’m your Best Friend. You can’t fool me about these things.” 

“But…” 

Poppy gave him a comforting pat on the arm. “It’s all right, Dekkie. You can still pretend to hate it, if that makes you feel better.” 

“Thanks…I suppose,” the boy said, and then frowned to himself. He couldn’t get past the feeling that his friend had just scored a point somehow. 

At precisely that moment the door to the guest room swung open, untouched by any visible hand, and a voice spoke from inside. “There you are, children! Please, do come in.” Exchanging a swift glance, the two young apprentices stepped inside, their bickering immediately forgotten. 

Emalen raised his head from his work as his two young visitors entered, giving them an interested look. The concept of children that young being trained in the art of killing was still a very strange one to him, both alien and rather disturbing, despite everything he’d seen in his time. _Humans…I wonder if I will ever understand them completely._

He knew what they were seeing as they stopped in the doorway, mutely regarding him. A slender elf, with the angularly handsome face and pointed ears typical of the race. He was wearing an elegant mage robe, dyed a deep emerald green, the same color as his eyes. No. Eye. Strange that he was still able to forget it occasionally, despite the black eye patch that covered the empty right socket. 

“Wow!” the little halfling girl immediately exclaimed. “Are you a pirate too?” Emalen’s mouth quirked into an amused smile. It wasn’t an easy feat to imagine this little one as a fearsome assassin, with her round and rosy cheeks, cheerful and bright brown eyes, and her open and friendly smile. _And that is probably the exact reason why Gorbia chose to recruit her, Emalen thought. That human is almost as good at long-term thinking as an elf._

“Poppy, he wears that thing because he’s one-eyed!” the other child hissed. “He may not like to be reminded of it.” He turned to Emalen. “Sorry, sir. She didn’t mean to offend you.” 

“It did not offend me,” Emalen said, amused at the boy’s seriousness, but careful to keep that fact to himself. “I have certainly been called worse, and by less charming people as well.” He winked at the halfling girl and then regarded her companion again. 

The human boy wasn’t all that much larger than his friend. A solemn little face looked back at Emalen from beneath an unkempt mess of black hair that probably hadn’t seen a comb in days. It was dominated by a pair of considering black eyes, disturbingly ancient-looking. Emalen got the uncomfortable feeling that the child was studying and evaluating him with lightning speed, carefully filing facts away. Clearly this one would need to be approached with some caution. “Please come in and be seated, both of you,” the elf said, absent-mindedly running his fingers through his fine ashen hair. “I am Emalen Nathrilarenal, and I believe your Guild Master has asked you both to assist me with a few matters while I am staying here. Let us get to know each other a little first, and then I will explain it all.” 

Introductions over and done with, Emalen explained that while he wasn’t an assassin as such, he had been employed by the Guild to aid with a certain project. “I do research on teleport spells,” he said. “As it is, they’re dangerously unstable, and can only be used by highly trained wizards. My research involves attempting to infuse the teleport magic into an enchanted object, thus enabling anybody to use it. I’m sure you see why your Guild Master would find that useful.” 

“Of course,” the boy sitting opposite him said, his eyes keen with interest. “You could get in anywhere, past any guards.” Then he frowned. “No…it still wouldn’t work, would it? If you didn’t know the place you were going to already, you could wind up anywhere.” 

Emalen nodded. “Precisely. It might still be used as an escape route, but so far, even that is dangerous. I have made some tests with volunteers. If they let their concentration slacken, accidents will occur.” 

“Like what?” Poppy asked. The halfling girl had propped her arms up on the work table and was resting her chin against it, looking a bit bored. 

“Well…one unfortunate subject teleported himself one mile under the surface of the sea. And another one wound up inside a mountain.” Emalen shuddered briefly. “And I don’t mean inside a cave either.” 

Poppy wrinkled her face with distaste. “Eeewwww! That’s disgusting. Don’t you think so, Dekkie?” 

The boy shrugged. “They weren’t doing it properly. Even a wizard can splatter himself all over the place if he isn’t concentrating properly, or wind up with his head inside his stomach or something. You need to focus.” Then his face turned guarded once again. “Or so I’ve heard.” 

“Hmm…” Emalen said, giving the child a considering look. “Yes, quite so. That is the problem I’m hoping to get around during my time here in Thay.” 

“Are you going to want us to test the thing when it’s done?” The boy sounded disinterested enough, but the elf had a feeling it was all an act. 

“Certainly not,” Emalen replied, honestly shocked. “It is still dangerous, and not for children. No, I requested your assistance in arranging my research notes. I’m paying visits to certain sources of magical literature…rather discreet visits if you catch my meaning. The Red Wizard disguise I use is good, but not flawless, even with illusion spells to hide my race, and the notes I take are brief, from necessity. I could use some assistance in going through them and writing them down properly. Also, to help inventory my supply of spell components. It needs to be more extensive than normal, since I have no way of knowing what will be necessary once I do make a breakthrough.” 

“You want us to run about with papers?” the halfling girl said, wrinkling her nose. She gave her friend a reproachful look. “Gee, thanks a lot for getting us onto punishment detail. I knew you shouldn’t have touched that robe.” 

“I don’t know…” the boy said. His face remained neutral, but there was an odd gleam in his black eyes. “I think it may actually be rather interesting…” 

A few days later the young Dekaras still hadn’t given up on the idea that had leapt into his head the moment he had heard of Emalen’s research, despite what almost seemed to be a conscious effort on the elf’s part to bore him to tears. The spell components were one thing. He already knew quite a bit of basic mage lore. Or at least, he had done so. But to his chagrin, he had found that he remembered less than he should have. It wasn’t all gone…but it was slipping away. The words, the gestures, the proper reagents. Would he forget it all, and not even have those memories left? _It’s my own fault. I’ve been so busy learning new things…I think I even tried to forget the old, in a way, since I lost the magic. It made things easier. But I don’t want to forget everything._

The boy went on meticulously grinding spider legs into a fine powder, his hands working on their own even as he let his mind wander. He could have done it in his sleep. _It’s not that I really think I can get the magic back. That’s just something a little child would believe. I know it won’t happen. But I still don’t want to forget all the other stuff around it, that would mean losing even more._

His hands on the pestle slowed a little. _There’s so much I can’t remember anymore. How could I forget things like that?_ Some parts were vivid and clear, like remembering what the sun looked like rising over the mountains at home, or a certain stream where he had used to like to play. Favorite foods. Random bits of songs. But other things were misty and unclear, or gone altogether. Not just the mage teachings. For example, when was his birthday? It seemed very strange not to be able to remember a thing like that, and more than a little humiliating. Children half his age could do it. He could remember his grandmother telling him stories, and even what some of them had been about, but he couldn’t remember her full name. _She’d probably be really mad if she knew about that. But I guess she already is. She’ll think I’ve shamed the family. I guess they all do._ He could remember the exact rules to a rather complicated game involving a ball, three sticks, and a certain rhyme, and that he had been reasonably good at it. But he couldn’t remember exactly what his parents’ voices had sounded like, and their faces were frighteningly fuzzy in his memory. _I wanted to forget…but not everything. If I did, I wouldn’t be me anymore, would I?_

As he carefully swept the now finely ground spider dust into a jar, he hoped that none of his concern was showing on his face for Emalen to see. Looking indifferent helped make people leave you alone, and he really didn’t want the elf to start asking awkward questions. Emalen. Now there was a puzzle. His head still bent over his work, the boy risked a swift glance from beneath his eyelashes in the one-eyed elf’s direction. Emalen was clearly a powerful wizard, that much was obvious from the research he was doing. But he didn’t draw attention to the fact, though there was no false modesty on his part either. He was actually pretty easygoing. As he was working, he would occasionally make an absent-minded comment to the children about what he was doing, seemingly oblivious to the fact that most of it ought to go straight over their heads, and equally so to the fact that the boy was listening eagerly. 

_I…guess I rather like him. He’s nice, and he doesn’t pry. He’s good at what he does too, and he trusts us to help him. He said we were a great help the other day. Pity Poppy doesn’t enjoy it…_

The halfling was in fact quite bored with taking notes and preparing spell components, and she was grumbling quietly all the time. If Emalen noticed, he made no comment. “Are we done soon?” Poppy asked. She had done so about twice an hour for the last three days. “How long will this take?” 

Emalen nodded solemnly at the tiny girl, pushing his hair away from his face. “So we are, little one. And you and your friend have been a great help, freeing my time to allow me to get ahead with my research. In fact, the portal ring has just been finished. Take a look!” He put a small item on the table, and both children crowded around him, eager to see. It looked like a plain gold ring, with writing inside. Elvish, it looked like. “This pretty little thing will take you anywhere you want to go!” Emalen proudly proclaimed. “Anywhere, you just need to twist it on your finger and tell it where you want to be taken.” 

“Can we try it?” the young Dekaras asked, hoping he didn’t sound too childishly eager. He hated to seem childish. 

“Not on your own,” Emalen said with a kind smile, shaking his head. “But once it has been tested, I might take you both on a little trip, if you are interested. And speaking of that…” He turned to the boy in front of him, his one green eye considering and serious. “Child, it hasn’t escaped me that you have a mind well suited for magic, and an interest in it as well. I am wondering…if perhaps you would be interested in becoming my apprentice? You may not be an elf, but under my own circumstances I hardly feel that matters.” 

_What?_ The boy stood absolutely still, his blood rushing loudly in his ears even as he felt darkness closing in on him. _No…No. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go…I was supposed to forget. I had almost managed to…why did he have to say that? Now he’s ruined it. Now he’s ruined **everything**._

Mistaking his silence and sudden pallor for him being overwhelmed with joy, Emalen hastily went on. “Of course, there are tests to be made first. I must scry you for magical aptitude, but that’s a simple thing. If I am mistaken, and you aren’t suited for magecraft, then no harm will be done. But I doubt it, it’s all in the mind. This won’t take a minute…” 

“Er…Emalen?” Poppy said, giving her Best Friend a worried glance. “I don’t think…” 

But it was too late. The elf had already touched his fingers to the forehead of the boy in front of him, chanting the spell even as he did so. 

The darkness was coming, the shadows lengthening. Dekaras stood motionless, unaware of the outside world. The only thing that existed was the void. The void within. He had managed to hide it away, to shut it inside the darkest, most secret corner of his soul, where he could almost forget it existed. Not now though. Now, there was a voice, chanting, calling to the void. Drawing it forth. And it was filling his soul, filling it as it had when it had first come into being. Empty. Cold. Sucking all light and life away. _No…it hurts! Make it stop! Make it STOP!_

Vainly, he tried with all his strength to push the void away again, to shut it off. But it was no use. The other one was there, inside him, calling out, calling for what was no longer there. Only the empty echoes of the void answered. He’s in my head…just like THEM! Go away! GO AWAY! The intrusion sparked fear and hate in addition to the pain, and he pushed, pushed to get rid of the intruder, the violator. There was a glimmer of surprise from the other one, and then he was gone, the void slowly receding. Not as far back as it had been though, no not at all. 

He was crouching on the floor, and he had no idea how he had got there, or why his heart was beating as quickly as if he had just run for an hour, or why his breath was torn in ragged gasps from his throat. And then there was a cool hand, tilting his head up, and an emerald green eye stared into his from a face that suddenly seemed entirely too old for an elf. “Child…” Emalen said. “What…what was done to you?” There was fear in the musical voice, yes, and revulsion as well. 

_You’re disgusted by me? You…you did that to me, rummaging about inside my head without asking, and you’re disgusted by what you found?_ “Leave me alone…” the boy whispered, his voice almost inaudible. “Just…just leave me alone.” 

“Child…” 

“Don’t call me that!” His voice was almost a scream by now, he noticed it in some distant corner of his mind, one that sat aloof and apart from the rest of him, watching. He had got to his feet, and now he violently batted the elf’s hand away, snarling with humiliation and pain. “And don’t touch me! Just leave me alone!” It was then that he spotted the ring, lying there innocently on the table. A means of escape. To where? Well, it didn’t matter, did it? As long as he got away from this adult whom he had thought he could begin to trust. As long as he got far away. _Home. I wish I could go home._ He snatched the ring off the table, not caring about the horrified expression on Emalen’s face as he thrust it onto his finger. 

“No!” Poppy was screaming. “Dekkie, don’t!” She threw herself at him, tackling him just as he twisted the ring on his finger, escape the only thought in his head. Too late. With a whoosh of air, the portal formed around the two children, sending them spinning through it, to an uncertain destination.


	3. Shadows Gathering

When Poppy awoke it was to warm sunlight that tickled her face. She rubbed sleepily at her eyes and tried to make sense of where she was. She was lying on her back, her head resting on something relatively soft that moved about a little as she stirred. The halfling sat up, yawning, and then she blinked with surprise. She was in what seemed to be a garden. There was tall grass all around, so tall that it almost reached her shoulders, and lots of pretty flowers whose sweet smells intermingled and hung in the air like a cloud. The buzzing of bees and bumblebees was everywhere, and a little ways off she could hear the merry chirping of several different birds. “Oh!” Poppy said with a bright smile. “Look at those pretty buttercups!” She reached up to pick a few, but was immediately distracted by the sight of all the other flowers, blue, red, pink in a lovely chaos all around her. When she turned around she temporarily forgot all about them though. Apparently, what she had been using as a temporary pillow was her Best Friend. 

The boy was lying on his back, apparently out cold. His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed in a manner that Poppy didn’t think she had ever seen with him awake. It made him look younger, as well as more vulnerable. When the halfling poked him in the side he twitched a little and murmured something, but otherwise didn’t stir. _Aw_ , Poppy thought. _Is he gonna sleep all day or what? Hey, I know what to do!_ Giggling to herself she picked a long blade of grass, and then proceeded to thoroughly tickle her friend’s nose with it. _Oh, look at the way he wrinkles his entire nose up like a cute little bunny! I think that’s…_ A violent sneeze interrupted the halfling’s thoughts, and she had to jump back as her friend jerked violently into a sitting position, his hands coming up in a defensive position before he even had opened his eyes. By now she knew to stay out of reach whenever she planned to wake him up. 

“Wha…” her Best Friend said, and then turned his head to spot her, a look of puzzlement creeping into his black eyes. “Poppy? Where are we?” 

“Hi Dekkie!” The halfling picked a few red flowers and proceeded to braid them into her hair along with the buttercups. “I’m not sure, but it sure is pretty. Want to go do some exploring? You can’t mean to sleep all day.” 

“Yes, but how did we get here?” Then his eyes widened with horror as he spotted the ring he was wearing. It was glowing faintly, and despite his furious tugging it refused to come off. Eventually the glow receded and winked out completely. “Oh no…now I remember. Poppy, I’m so sorry.” He stared at the ground, sounding absolutely mortified. “I wasn’t really thinking straight, I just wanted to get away. But I never meant to drag you into it.” 

“Huh, you didn’t drag me! I jumped.” The halfling gave her friend a teasing grin. “Somebody needs to look after you if you’re going to act like a tipsy squirrel.” 

“I don’t need to be ‘looked after’! And what’s that thing about the squirrel supposed to mean?” 

“Yes you do. And tipsy squirrels are all muddle-headed and confused, and run in circles really fast and fall out of trees. They look cute though.” 

“Poppy…give it a rest.” 

“But they do! It’s not my fault if you do too.” 

“I don’t. I’m not confused, I don’t run in circles, I haven’t fallen out of a tree since I was able to walk, and I definitely **don’t** look cute. And besides, how do you know so much about tipsy squirrels?” 

“Well,” the halfling explained, chewing on the blade of grass, “I once fed the squirrels at home some nut mash and didn’t know that Ma had spiked it with brandy. She was baking this cake, you see. Boy, did I ever get into trouble…so, just what was up with you back there? What made you freak out?” 

Her Best Friend seemed to be making a careful study of the ground. “I didn’t ‘freak out’.” 

“No? You think most people suddenly start screaming and then toss themselves into magical portals with no idea where they’re going? Sounds pretty much like freaking out to me.” Poppy reached out to give her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Look. I know something bad is up. Why not just tell me? You know I’ll try to help.” 

The boy pulled his knees up, encircling them with his arms as if he wanted to protect himself from an expected beating, and when he turned towards her his face was a study in quiet misery. “I can’t tell you. Just drop it, all right?” 

“But why? I’m your Best Friend, you know you can trust me.” 

“I do trust you. But…” 

“But what?” 

For a moment the halfling thought her friend might actually start crying, and the thought frightened her immensely. _I’ve never seen him do that. Ever. Not even when he’s really hurt himself_. It never happened though. He simply stared at the ground again, and refused to meet her eyes. “But it hurts. What happened before, I mean. I don’t even like to think about it. I’ve been trying to forget things were ever different. And besides…” 

“Yes, Dekkie?” 

“And besides, I don’t want you to feel sorry for me! I’m not some helpless little baby, I can deal with it, and I can take care of myself. I’m all right. Or I would have been, if that stupid elf hadn’t decided he had the right to mess about with things that weren’t his business.” 

Poppy crossed her arms across her chest, giving her friend her most stubborn look. “Fine. Whatever. But I will get you to tell me, sooner or later.” _And whatever you think, you’re anything but ‘all right’_. “So, any idea where we are?” 

Her Best Friend looked about, seemingly seeing the flowers and tall grass for the first time. As he sniffed the air, a look of wonder crept onto his face. “I…think I might,” he said, getting to his feet. Poppy followed his example, and standing up the two children stared out over a vast expanse of rolling grassland. The plains reached almost as far as the eyes could see, but far in the distance it was possible to glimpse the faint blue outline of tall mountains against the deeper blue of a cloudless sky. The grassland almost resembled a sea, a vast ocean of grass gleaming golden-green in the warm sunlight. Far above, the screech of a hunting bird could be heard. “Yes,” the boy said, his voice now certain. “I know where we are. This is Rasheman.” 

“Rasheman?” Poppy asked, in the same tone of voice she’d have used to say ‘the moon?’ “You sure about that?” 

Her Best Friend nodded, still staring at the distant mountains. “Yes. I recognize this place. Well, not this place as such, but the plains. We used to…travel all over. For the sake of the herds, you see.” His voice sounded very quiet when next he spoke, almost as if he was talking to himself. “I should have known before. The smells…and the sounds. And the grass. We used to play in it, hide-and-seek. And hunting games. Sneaking up on each other, that sort of thing. The grass is very easy to hide in, but you need to be careful not to startle any birds, or you’ll get caught. You need to move really silently. And to watch out for snakes all the time of course. You don’t want to step on a snake by mistake, and they can be really hard to spot.” 

Poppy was listening with great interest to this. Her friend had never volunteered this much information about his previous life before, and she was intensely curious. Somehow, she got the impression that he was trying to make up for not wanting to speak of what was hurting him, and doing so in a very roundabout way. Or maybe he was so caught up in memories that he’d almost forgotten she was there. “Snakes?” she said. “What do they look like?” 

“There are different kinds, all small, all poisonous. I’ll show you if I see any. You’d better let me go first, just in case.” The boy sighed, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. “You know…I’d almost forgotten how clean the air is here.” 

“This is where you come from?” Poppy asked. “Wow, that’s exciting! Rasheman is…is almost like a storybook country, I’ve always wanted to see it. All those monsters…and the wilderness, with those spirits everywhere…and the wild warriors, and the witches…” Then she shut her mouth as she noticed how pale her friend had suddenly gotten. Clearly, she was on the right track. 

“Yes,” he said, his voice dull. “Those.” Then he abruptly turned towards her again, a desperate look in his eyes. “We can’t stay here, Poppy. It’s not safe.” 

“But…” 

“Don’t argue. Please. They…they aren’t here now, but they might come! We have to go.” He gave the ring on his finger an angry glare. “This stupid thing got us here, it had better get us out. Come on, hold onto me.” 

Poppy shrugged, uncertain of the reason for this sudden hurry, but willing to comply. Wrapping her arms around her friend’s waist, she waited for the lurch and shift of magic. And waited. And waited some more. Clearly, none was forthcoming. 

_Tardass!_ The boy spat the word out in such a manner that it was clear it wasn’t a polite one. Then he blushed faintly. “And don’t tell anybody I said that, all right?” 

“What’s wrong?” Poppy asked. “Why won’t the ring work?” 

“I’m not sure,” her friend said uncertainly. “I did it the same way as before. Perhaps it needs to recharge itself. Some magic items are like that.” 

“Oh. That makes sense I suppose. So, we just wait here then?” 

The boy shook his head. “I think it would be better to move. Just in case…just in case we can’t get the ring to work again we’d better try to get home on foot.” 

“Oh. How far is that?” 

“Far,” her friend said, sounding rather guilty. “Really far.” After they had walked in silence for a while he turned to her again. “Poppy, I’m really sorry about all this. This is all my fault. I’ll get you back somehow, I promise.” 

The halfling smiled brightly up at her friend. “That’s all right, Dekkie. It’s a real adventure, isn’t it? Who knows, it may be really fun! Maybe we’ll get to kill a dragon before we go home…or at least steal its treasure!” 

The boy snorted quietly in response to this, but he sounded happier already. “A halfling against a dragon…that I’d like to see. No, on second thought, I really wouldn’t. I’d prefer to leave the treasure and keep you in one piece. I only have one Best Friend, you know.” 

“Yes,” Poppy said, still smiling. “I know.” 

Having walked for some hours the children sat down to rest, managing to startle a cloud of blue and gold butterflies into the air. Poppy looked at them in wonder for a moment before sitting down. “Whew, am I tired or what?” she said as she sat down on the ground. “Dekkie? Are we there soon?” 

Her friend shook his head in negation. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “Sorry.” 

“Oh.” The halfling idly wound an interesting plant into one of her braids. It had lots of pretty little red flowers and heart shaped leaves, and she was very pleased with the way it looked. “How far is it, then?” 

The boy gave her an embarrassed look. “Well…the last time I did this I walked for days and days. Weeks, maybe. I’m not sure.” 

“Oh.” That didn’t sound too good, but on the other hand adventures were supposed to be at least a little uncomfortable, otherwise you might as well stay at home. “Don’t you think we ought to try to find some food then? I’m pretty hungry. How did you do that the last time?” Poppy made certain to sound as innocent as possible when she posed the last question, so her friend wouldn’t notice that she was actually trying to wheedle out of him what ‘the last time’ meant. 

“Actually I almost starved to death the last time.” 

“Oh!” Now that definitely was bad news. Like most halflings, particularly growing ones, Poppy had a very healthy appetite. Starvation was not something she really felt prepared to tackle. 

“But this time it’ll be different!” her Best Friend hurriedly added when he saw the crushed look on her face. “See, then I was already in a bad shape, and besides that I couldn’t stop long enough to get much food since I was being hunted by the…” His mouth instantly clammed shut as it dawned on him that he had almost said too much. “Anyway,” he hastily added, “I’m sure we can find something to eat. Do you have any weapons at all? I only have that one dagger I’m not supposed to have since Master Gorbia thinks it’s too dangerous for children to handle, and that’s really no good for hunting.” 

“The one with the blade that slides into the hilt? Cool!” 

“Yes. I stole it back from his desk-drawer only this morning. How about you?” 

“I have my sling,” Poppy said, holding the item in question up for inspection. “And some rocks.” 

“Perfect! Now all we need to do is sneak up on some animal.” 

“Like a cute and fuzzy little rabbit?” 

“I suppose…” 

“Great!” Poppy said, licking her lips. “I love rabbit…especially the way Ma used to make it, with apples and that special sauce and fresh bread and butter. Or maybe a nice fat pigeon…” 

Her Best Friend gave her a reproachful look. “Poppy, I'm already hungry. Don’t make it worse, all right?” 

“Ooops. Sorry. Won’t mention it again.” 

“Good.” 

There was approximately two minutes of silence. “Dekkie?” Poppy said. “Are there any blackberry bushes out here? Only my Ma used to make this special pie, with this lovely crust and lots of cream and…” 

“Poppy!” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

“Anyway,” the young Dekaras said after they had spent an hour in fruitless search of suitable prey, “doesn’t Master Gorbia say that assassins are supposed to be lean and mean?” 

Poppy snorted. “Huh! **You** can be that if you want, I want to be plump and pleasant. Now let’s go find something to kill…” 

Some time later, the children had managed to track down something better than a rabbit. A herd of small deer was grazing close by, oblivious to the two small forms approaching stealthily through the high grass, out of the wind. Poppy gave her friend a quiet signal, indicating which animal she had selected, and she saw him nod almost imperceptibly in return, his entire being focused on the prey. She could feel that same excitement, her heart beating faster and the world narrowing into a small tunnel of focus. She might or might not be able to kill the deer in one shot, but if she could at least stun it they would be able to take it down. Closer…just a little closer… 

And then she could hear the abrupt call of a bird in the distance, followed by others, and the deer startled, bounding off almost as if born on wings. “Drat!” the halfling exclaimed. “That was so close…” 

“Ssshh!” her friend warned her. “Those birds were scared of something. We don’t know what’s coming, so let’s keep our heads down.” 

Poppy nodded, and then she could hear what had startled the animals. Hoofbeats. Hoofbeats and human voices, coming closer. 

He had been fearing the worst, certainly, but seeing it actually heading towards him, filled the young Dekaras with cold dread. There were about a dozen people coming closer, all of them on horseback, the swift plains horses bred for running fast over long distances. Most of the people were warriors, grim-faced and muscular, wearing fairly light armor so they wouldn’t tire the animals out too easily. He only dared sneak quick glances at them through the high grass, so he couldn’t make out their tribal markings for certain, but it made no real difference. They were dangerous, that was all that mattered. Not nearly as dangerous as the two women though, the ones he had to force himself to look at. One of them was older, her dark brown hair streaked with white, her round and pleasant face lined. The other was younger, perhaps about his mother’s age. He could glimpse hair of a lighter, almost golden brown, and hear her laugh at something her companion said. The laughter sounded open, even kind, but he knew that such impressions couldn’t be trusted. The others had seemed kind too. At first. 

_Wychlaran_. Witches. The word was an icy chill running through his veins, a poisoned dagger in his heart. He could feel his fists clenching violently, his nails digging into his palms, and the hatred was churning his belly. But there was fear as well, and that was worse. He could feel his body trembling uncontrollably, even as he lay flat on the ground, and he had to bury his face in the crook of his arm so he wouldn’t make any involuntary noises. The memories were still relatively fresh, and now they rushed back, like a black flood wave that had suddenly been let loose and threatened to engulf his soul. 

He hadn’t known what would happen, of course. If he had, he might even have agreed to do as they wanted, even if that meant becoming more or less a trained pet, an item-making slave kept alive for a very long time so his owners would get maximum use out of him. Very honored they were, the male mages of Rasheman. Very honored, living in their golden cages, but never free. 

But he hadn’t known, and he had refused, despite warnings to the contrary. He hadn’t believed they would do anything really bad to him. They were grownups after all, and grownups didn’t hurt children. That simply wasn’t the way the world worked. So when they had first told him what they intended he hadn’t believed them at first. Then, once it started to sink in, he had panicked, and tried to get away, but of course they had caught him only too easily. He had kept one final hope though. Surely his parents would never allow such a thing to be done to him? They loved him, they would come for him, and they would put a stop to this. With childish defiance he had even said as much to the old Wychlaran watching over the proceedings. And then she had told him, told him that his family knew exactly what was to take place, that they were dutiful citizens who knew the necessity of keeping the land free of rogue magic users, of keeping such power under the careful control of those best suited to deal with it. That they not only knew, but approved. 

The memories were coming faster now, as they hadn’t done in a very long time, and he was there once again, lying on the ground in the darkness. It had hurt, oh how it had hurt, there had been so much pain that he was almost unable to breathe. At some point he had actually felt his heart stop, and for a few seconds he had hoped that the pain would stop as well. But he had lived, and it had gone on, over an interminable period of time. Pain to make him twitch uncontrollably on the ground, like an insect impaled on a needle, and worth about as much in the cold eyes of the Witches surrounding him. Pain that made him want to scream, except he couldn’t breathe enough to do so. It was like a sharp claw reaching into his soul, ripping part of it out forever, leaving only a cold and echoing void behind, a void that sucked all the light and the laughter away from the world. Then, it had been finished, and the void was fully grown, lurking inside where the magic had once been. Where the magic would never again be. 

He remembered now, remembered a part that he had managed to forget. Remembered that he had screamed at one point, when through the daze of the pain he had turned his head to see them standing there, watching. His mother and father, watching silently, looking sad. Not intervening. He had screamed for help, begging them to stop this, promising to be good if only they’d stop. That loss of pride had hurt almost as much as the physical pain, but he had been beyond caring at that point. _And then…they walked off. Just…walked off, and they never even looked back. They never even looked back. Just left me. Just left me…_

The voices of the Witches were close by, and they kept him firmly enthralled by the dark memories, so submerged in them that he wasn’t entirely sure where he was. Some remnant of sense still remained though, enough that he could keep himself silent, knowing it would be extremely dangerous to give as much as a whimper. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking though, exactly as it had been on that day. But not crying. Never, ever that. 

And now he could feel a small arm around his shoulders, hugging him close, and the voice of his Best Friend was whispering quietly into his ear, telling him not to worry, that everything was going to be all right. She was sounding extremely upset though, and he felt a flash of guilt. No wonder. I must have scared her. She has no idea what’s going on after all. For a moment he was tempted, as so many times before, to tell her everything, to simply let it all out. _No! I can’t! I just can’t…_

Speaking of the past was painful in itself, but the shame that went with it was perhaps the worst. Shame that they’d managed to do this to him, that he'd been unable to stop them, irrational as that thought might be. Shame that he’d been abandoned in the first place, that he hadn’t been considered worth protecting. Shame that even now, a full year or more afterwards, the memories were still able to affect him like this, despite his best efforts to forget, and shame that his friend should have to see him this way. _That’s not how things are supposed to be. I’m supposed to look after her, not upset her._

The boy forced himself to raise his head from the ground, and saw a worried little halfling face hovering over him, brown eyes wide with concern. He managed to smile weakly at her, and then silently indicated that they should move aside before they were spotted. The very thought of discovery was almost enough to make him vomit, and he couldn’t keep himself from imagining it. 

Poppy was extremely worried, and it wasn't the proximity of the strangers that was causing it. She had never seen her Best Friend in such a state before, not even when he was having those nightmares he never wanted to admit to, and it frightened her immensely. For a moment she had feared that he was seriously ill, and the realisation that it was fear she was witnessing didn't make things better. Anything that could frighten him that badly had to be something very terrible indeed, and it was somehow connected with the people whose voices she could still hear close by, though she couldn't see them through the tall grass. I wish he'd just tell me! How am I supposed to help him and look after him if he won't tell me what's wrong? Right now he seemed to have pulled himself together though, at least temporarily. His face was still worryingly white, but he was able to move again. 

The two children slowly crept off, taking care to keep their heads down and move unobtrusively so they wouldn't make the grass stir more than the wind did. It seemed to be working so far, the voices behind them were growing more distant. Poppy allowed herself a brief sigh of relief. And it was then, when she dared relax a little, that she almost stepped on a snake. It reared up right in front of her nose, hissing angrily at being disturbed, and before she had the time to think about it she threw herself backwards with a startled yelp. Instantly, the voices behind them fell silent, and then there were shouted commands. “Oops…” Poppy whispered, apologetically meeting her friend’s frantic eyes. He didn’t reply, but simply caught her by the arm, dragging her after him. All thoughts of stealth abandoned, they ran for their lives.


	4. Capture

Poppy ran as fast as she could, but she could hear the approaching hoof beats behind them, rolling like the thunder, and she knew that they’d be caught within seconds. Then, the warriors were upon them. She felt a large hand grasping her and hoisting her into the air, and then she was dangling across a broad, brown horseback, shaking about like a pea in a bowl, despite the fact that her captor was holding her in place. She tried to keep an eye out for her Best Friend, but hanging upside-down as she was she didn’t have a chance to spot him. However, there was a sudden pained shout coming from another rider somewhere behind her, so she guessed that he’d managed to hurt somebody. Then she was suddenly unceremoniously dumped onto the ground again, in a circle of people who were watching her curiously. There were all the armed warriors of course, and the two women. They looked different, but they had something in common that the haflfling found very interesting, a certain air of confidence, almost of regality. Then, her Best Friend was dropped almost on top of her by a surly-looking warrior who was nursing a still bleeding hand. 

“Don’t say anything,” the boy murmured into her ear as he staggered to his feet, grasping her hand protectively. “Not a word. Pretend to be mute.” 

Dekaras had his reasons for this request of course. He didn’t want to think about what the Wychlaran might do to his friend if they heard her speaking Thayvian. Even Common wouldn’t be much better; it would still brand her as an intruder. They might kill her! Even if they didn’t, they’d ask all sorts of dangerous questions. He was still extremely frightened of course, but somehow he managed to keep his legs from trembling. He had to get them out of here somehow, and he couldn’t afford to give in to fear again. _Think about how much you hate them instead. That’s much better_. Hatred gave him a sort of cold focus, something to cling to, something to keep him steady, and as the two Witches approached he gave them a cold and hostile glare. _I wish I could kill them. I wish I could kill them all._

“My, what a fierce little boy,” the younger of the two women said in an amused voice. She had a long necklace of beads and claws dangling around her neck, and he stared at it, refusing to meet her eyes. He wasn’t sure he could keep the fear away if he did. 

“You can say that,” the surly warrior behind the boy said, raising his bleeding hand in an accusatory manner. “He bit me!” 

_Yes I did, and I hope your hand turns black and falls off. Pity I couldn’t get my dagger out, or I could have done worse._

The older of the two witches shrugged, and gave the warrior a not particularly sympathetic look. “If you cannot deal with a foe that small, then you are not much good to us, now are you? Perhaps we should report your incompetence to your chieftain.” 

The man stiffened. “No, I…pardon my outburst, _Wychlaran_. I meant no disrespect.” 

“Good.” Her face was placid, but there was a certain bite to her voice, and her dark eyes were knowing. Now she was approaching the children, not smiling. “Children, why are you here, alone in the wilderness? Surely this is no place for young ones.” 

“We…are lost,” the young Dekaras said, frantically trying to come up with some story that might sound plausible. It had been a long time since he had spoken more than a few words in his birth tongue, and it felt strangely alien to him now. _Have to keep the story as simple as possible, or she will guess I’m lying. I won’t be taken again. I won’t. I’ll die first._ Except…he wasn’t alone this time. There was his Best Friend to consider, who was even now watching him trustingly. _It’s my fault she’s even here to begin with. I promised I’d keep her safe. If I have to, I’ll…I’ll do whatever it takes. Even if that means going with them. They wouldn’t want me for the same reasons, but I think they still want me_. 

“Lost?” the Witch said, arching an eyebrow. “Is that so? From which tribe do you come?” 

This was a dangerous question, and the boy hesitated a moment before answering. If he gave the name of any of the bigger tribes or clans that he knew of, they ran the risk of one of the warriors being from there, and being able to reveal them. “The Tribe of the Serpent,” he said in a firm voice, recalling the snake that had caused this mess in the first place by spooking Poppy. “It’s a very small one, you’ve probably never even heard of it.” Only after he’d finished speaking did he realized that he hadn’t added the honorific _Wychlaran_. It went against all the teachings of his early childhood, and his parents would no doubt have been mortified. _Well, I don’t care! Let them think I’m ill bred then. They won’t kill us for it._

“That is correct,” the Witch said. She gave him a cold look that told him that she hadn’t missed out on the discourtesy. “I have not. Strange…” 

“And what of this other little one?” asked the other, younger Witch. “Does she have nothing to say?” She smiled pleasantly at Poppy. 

“She doesn’t speak,” Dekaras hastily said. “She can’t help it.” _What does she mean, other little one? I’m not ‘little’. I’m taller than Poppy is. Please Poppy, just keep quiet and don’t blow our cover._

“Hm,” said the older one, and her smile never quite reached her eyes. “Perhaps, yet perhaps not. It…bothers me to see two helpless little ones running about in the middle of nowhere. You might get yourselves into trouble. Or cause it.” 

“But _Othlor_!” the younger woman exclaimed. “They are only children! Surely…” 

“Silence!” the leading Witch snapped. Once she was certain that her subordinate was well in hand she went on. “Children they may be, but children in unexpected places is not something I approve of. It is untidy, and I dislike untidiness. Untidiness means disorder, disorder means chaos, chaos means anarchy, and anarchy means rebellion. It would not be beneath our enemies to learn the location of our contingent, plant these two here as some sort of trap, and then fall upon us. I believe some more in-depth questioning is in order.” 

“But…” 

“Silly girl! I do not mean that. Just a painless, harmless spell.” With that, the Witch muttered the words to a spell, her hands weaving complex patterns in the air as she did so, then tossed something that looked like sparkly sand into the air. 

The young Dekaras thought he recognized that spell, in fact he was very much afraid that he did. There had been a local Wychlaran with the tribe, and she had also been very fond of using it whenever she suspected the children of mischief. It was a rare form of divination spell, one that the Witches kept to themselves and definitely were not supposed to teach to outsider mages, for it had the power to divide lies from truth. Anyway, it probably wouldn’t work outside of Rasheman at all, supposedly it was one of those special spells that drew on the power of the land itself. Fortunately, it was also a very literal spell, and if you chose your words carefully it was occasionally possible to get around it. The boy knew this, since he had practiced more than once. Except then nothing more had been at stake than a possible spanking, and now both his and his friend’s life might depend on how good he was at lying. 

_At least I know what’s going on_ , he thought, and made himself stare with wide eyes at the Witch, trying to look clueless. _Most people wouldn’t, and that gives me a small advantage_. He kept a tight hold on Poppy’s hand, trying to silently communicate the need to be quiet. 

“Let us begin with something easy, shall we?” the Othlor said, still smiling that unpleasant smile. “What is your name?” 

_Right. No problem_. He opened his mouth to answer, and then froze. There was a very possible risk that these Witches might have heard his name before. It all depended on if they were in a part of Rasheman close to his old home. Only a very few children refused the ‘honor’ of becoming _vremyonni_ , item-makers in thrall to the Witches. The few that did…well, he knew what happened to them. And the Witches might talk it over among themselves, say ‘Oh, last week I sucked the magic out of another kid, you should have heard him scream, my dear.’ That sort of thing. No, he didn’t dare give his real name. But he obviously couldn’t lie either. 

“Well?” The Othlor sounded impatient. “I asked you a simple question. What is your name?” 

The boy thought furiously for a moment. Then his gaze went to his friend who was glaring angrily at the Witches. Poppy might not understand what was being said, but she could tell when somebody was upsetting her Best Friend, and she didn’t like it. Then he had an idea. _Oh gods. Poppy is never going to let me forget this one_. “Dekkie,” he said, painfully aware of how sulky he sounded. “My name is Dekkie.” 

“Hmmm…” the Othlor said. She still looked suspicious, but since the spell hadn’t gone off she accepted the answer. “Just that? Have you no family name?” 

“Um…yes. But I was taught not to give my full name to strange grownups, and I promised not to. So I can’t. I’d be breaking my word, see. You understand, don’t you? Mother always says the _Wychlaran_ think it’s very important to keep your word.” Still no warning from the spell. He was almost beginning to enjoy himself a little, and he knew that was dangerous. This was no game, and the fear was still there, lurking beneath the surface with the hatred. But oh, it felt so good to outwit them and practically laugh in their faces. 

“He has you there, _Othlor_ ,” said the younger Witch, laughing a little. “Surely it cannot be that important?” 

“Hmpf,” the older woman said, her eyes not leaving the children for one instant. “And who do you belong to, child?” 

The boy could feel his body tensing just a bit, and he tried to keep the most of the hostility out of his voice. “Nobody. I don’t belong to anybody but me.” Again, the spell gave no sign of dishonesty. 

“An orphan, is it? Or a young troublemaker?” The Witch went on, without waiting for another reply. “How did you get here, into the middle of nowhere? Did somebody send you here?” 

“No. Nobody sent us.” This was very dangerous ground, and he knew it. If the subject of Thay should crop up, or Red Wizards, it would be almost impossible to conceal the truth. _Have to say as little as possible_. “We just got lost. Everybody will probably be really angry when we get home.” 

“Home, you say, child. And where is home?” 

Another dangerous question, and his mouth felt as dry as paper as he rapidly sorted through possible answers. “My parents move about a lot, with the tribe,” he said. _At least I suppose they still do_. “I was born in the woods, in the great forest.” That much was true. That he didn’t live there any longer was something he fervently hoped the Witch wouldn’t notice. 

“The Ashenwood? The Dark Forest?” 

“I don’t know…they never said. It was just the forest.” 

“Hmmmm…” the _Othlor_ said, and her mouth set in a disapproving frown, as if she was trying to think of a law prohibiting not knowing where you’d been born. “But you still have not answered one of my questions. How did you get here, all by yourselves?” 

"It was an accident," the boy said. He didn't particularly want to tell the truth, but at this point he could see no alternative. "We didn't mean to, but we found this magical ring, and it sort of dumped us here…" 

"Magical ring?" The woman's voice was sharp, and her eyes glittered eagerly. "You stole it, did you not? Stole it from whatever _Wychlaran_ was in charge of your community?" 

"No! I mean, I didn't mean to, only to borrow it." _And not from Them either, but she doesn't have to know that_. 

The Witch had spotted the ring by now, and she was eyeing it greedily. "Whatever the case, it is obviously not yours, unless you happen to be a _vremyonni_ , and such a powerful artefact is much too dangerous for children to handle. Give it here. We will take care of it, and see that you two get home properly." 

"No," the young Dekaras said in a flat voice, glaring back up at her. "It's not yours, and you can't have it." _We can't get home without it, and I'm not giving anything to any Witch, not ever. I killed one of you before, I don't mind doing it again_. Except that had been a last resort action, as he was escaping, and it had only been one Witch, and he had still been very lucky to get away with it. Now there were two, and a small army of warriors as well, and he couldn't possibly hope to kill all those. Next to him, he felt rather than saw his Best Friend tense up just like he did, clearly aware of the danger. 

"You are a wilful, rude and disobedient child," the _Othlor_ said in that calm and chilling voice of hers. "You need to be taught proper manners, and proper respect for those above you in age and station. The Law clearly states that deliberate disobedience towards one of the _Wychlaran_ merits the death penalty, but you are young and may yet be trained as you should be. However, I will not put up with your insolence further. Bjaric - get them." She snapped her fingers and one of the warriors moved forward, very quickly for a man of that impressive size. 

The boy let out a small gasp of pain as he felt his arm twisted up behind his back, at the same time that another strong arm held him firmly to keep him from wriggling free. Though he managed to plant a solid kick on the shins of the man, and heard a very satisfying grunt, he couldn't get loose, and he felt the Witch trying to remove the ring from his finger. It didn't work though, no more than when he had tried it earlier. Then he caught a ringing slap across the face from the fellow he had kicked earlier, and a hot pain exploded across one cheek and made his head buzz. Vaguely he was aware of Poppy being caught by another berserker, but not before she managed to make the man howl with pain by headbutting him in a very sensitive area. 

"Enough!" the _Othlor_ finally hissed. "We haven't the time for this. Clearly the ring is somehow bound to the brat, and tempting as it is to simply remove his finger that might well interfere with the magic. We will bring them both along, and I will consult with my Sisters when we reach our destination. Mount!" 

Soon after, the children found themselves bound hand and foot, and tossed across the saddles of one horse each, like two sacks of grain. Feeling as if his teeth were about to shake loose with every step the horse took, Dekaras pondered that maybe it hadn't been a very good idea to let the Witches find out about the magic ring, not that he thought he'd had much of a choice. _But at least they don't know where we really come from, they forgot about that in all the excitement. And that means we may still have a chance._

A couple of hours later the two children found themselves rather roughly thrown to the ground inside one of the tents that the troop of warriors had hastily erected as they made camp. One of the guards made certain that they were still tightly trussed up, and then went outside. Poppy squirmed about a little. Being jostled about on a horseback wasn't something she wanted to do again in the near future, particularly when bound. "Ouch," she said. "I'm hurting all over. How are you doing, Dekkie?" 

Her Best Friend was lying on his side a short distance away from her, tied up as she was. His hair was falling into his face, but she could still make out a livid bruise across his cheek, and there was a slow trickle of blood from his swollen lip. "I guess I'll live," he said, his voice a little thick. "At least I didn't lose any teeth. How 'bout you?" 

"I'm fine, just sore. Ooooh, those big meanies! I'll get them good for hurting you like that, see if I don't! I'll smack them, and I'll kick them and…and…what do they want anyway? I couldn't understand a word you were saying before." 

Briefly, the boy summarised the previous conversation. "So it's the ring they want," he said. "I wish I hadn't let on about it…but if I hadn't given some sort of explanation for how we wound up here we'd have been in even more trouble. They might have killed us on the spot." 

Poppy contemplated this for a moment. "Dekkie?" she finally said. "You will tell me what this is all about, won't you?" 

Her Best Friend nodded sincerely, then winced at the painful movement. "Of course," he said. "I owe you that much. But we have to get out of here first somehow." He wriggled about a little, then snarled with frustration. "Remember when we were given that lesson on escaping bonds and prisons? Remember that skinny old fellow who gave it, Wheezer Tomker his name was I think? Remember how easy he made it look?" 

"Yep. He just slipped out of those ropes like it was nothing." 

"Well, I thought I understood it, but now it won't work at all, and I should be able to. I wish I'd been allowed to practise a little more on my own." 

"But you almost strangled yourself when practising, remember? That's why Master Gorbia said you had to wait until you were bigger." 

"No I didn't! It was perfectly safe. I could have held my breath long enough if only he hadn't interfered with me." 

"Dekkie, you were turning blue in the face." 

"I wasn't!" 

"Was too!" 

"Was not!" 

"Was too!" 

"Not!" 

"Too!" 

"Not…anyway, I can't get out of these ropes that way. They're too tight. How about you?" 

Poppy shook her head. "No way. I can't even budge them. Think maybe we can bite through them? I've got pretty sharp teeth." 

"You could try, I guess." 

Poppy managed to wriggle along the ground like a worm, and then positioned her mouth over the ropes binding her friend's hands. After a little while she realised that it wasn't going to do any good though. Her lips and tongue were already hurting, but she hadn't managed to so much as soften the rope. Then she thought of something. "Dekkie?" she said. "Have you still got that dagger? The one you aren't really supposed to use?" 

The boy stiffened a little, and when he answered excitement had crept into his voice. "Yes, I think so. It's at my left hip, a little to the back. Unless I lost it when they tossed me about you should be able to get to it." 

Frowning with concentration the halfling burrowed her head under her friend's tied arms, as he extended them backwards as much as he could to grant her easier access. Eventually she found the weapon, and managed to draw it free. "Careful," her Best Friend said. "If you press the button on the side right now the blade will be released and most likely stab me in the kidneys." 

Poppy swallowed heavily, and was very, very careful. When the dagger was finally out of its sheath she put it down on the ground. "You know, Dekkie," she said a little testily. "You aren't really very good at making other people relax." 

He only gave a short, almost inaudible little laugh at that. "You're doing fine. Now see if you can get the blade out, but mind it's pointing in the right direction first. You don't want it hitting you in the face when it extends." 

Shaking her head with exasperation the halfling went about her task. The dagger shot out of the hilt with a sharp little 'snik', and she once again picked it up with her teeth. She could have done it with her hands, but that would have meant facing the other way while trying to cut her Best Friend's ropes, and that didn't sound like a very good idea. So she carefully sawed away, her jaws and neck aching, not daring to relax for a second for fear of slicing through skin and blood vessels rather than rope. The worst part was that she had to go about her task very slowly so she didn't make any mistakes. _Those nasty people could come in at any moment to see what we're up to. And if they do, we'll be in so much trouble_. Poppy had been punished now and then by her parents, but something told her that what these people would do would be something far worse than being sent to bed without supper or even a spanking. _And I bet Dekkie knows it too. That's why he acted like he did before. They did something to him before, I know it, something that hurt him really bad. And I wish I could kill them for it._

Finally, after an agonisingly long time, she got through the ropes. Once her Best Friend was free, he rapidly cut her own bonds, then gave her a firm hug. "Thanks Poppy," he said, sounding very serious. "I couldn't have done it without you." 

"'Course you couldn't," Poppy said, feeling warm and happy despite the circumstances. "That's what Best Friends do. Are we gonna get out of here now? I'm really hungry now…" 

The boy nodded. "Yes. Just a moment though." He pointed at the opening of the tent, closed by a leather flap. "There's a magic ward on the ground by the door, a little bit up in the air. Anybody who walks through it will trigger an alarm. We need to get over it, and then once we get out we'll have to be very careful not to be seen. There's no guard right by the door, I've listened for that, but they will be out there somewhere." 

"Magic ward? But how do you…" 

Her friend shook his head, his eyes looking very big and dark in the pale oval of his face. "Not now, Poppy," he said, and from the tension in his voice the halfling quite correctly guessed that he was scared still, despite his attempts to appear confident. "Just get on my back. I'll carry you across." 

"Right," Poppy said as she climbed into a piggyback position. "Just don't drop me, or I'm giving you the tickle torture when we get home." 

The boy staggered a little under even the halfling's slight weight, not being all that much bigger than she was. "Whatever. I'll be happy as long as we get home. And stop squeezing my ribs like that." 

"I'm just holding on." 

"With your knees? I won't drop you, I promise." He was moving a little erratically as he made his way towards the tent flap, but he did manage to get it open and then took two very careful steps outside, lifting his legs high as he did so. Moving as silently as they knew how, the two children slipped away through the darkness, heading towards the edge of the camp.


	5. Dark Forest of Memory

Before the children could reach freedom they came across a very troublesome obstacle. There was a campfire right in their path, and right beyond that there were several dark figures, warming themselves against the night chill. Warriors, and worse than that. One of the Witches, Dekaras noticed. The younger one, the one who wasn't quite so unpleasant, was pacing back and forth by the fire, looking very tense and upset. She hadn't seen them, at least not yet, but he wasn't sure that they'd be able to get past both her and the warriors, not with them looking in so many directions at once. _We don't dare stay here though. Somebody could happen upon us at any moment. We need something, some sort of distraction. What though?_ He looked about, trying to think of something. Then his eyes fell on his Best Friend, and he suddenly smiled. "Poppy," he whispered. "Give me those flowers, would you?" 

The halfling looked puzzled, but she removed the red flowers she had braided into her hair earlier and handed them to him. He turned them over in his hands, examining them. The heart-shaped leaves were just as he recalled them, and so was the smell, sweet but with an underlying tinge of bitterness. _Yes. Just as I thought. It's Fool's Rule. Now this should be good._

Swiftly, he tugged a spare piece of string out of his pocket, something he always tried to keep for emergency purposes. _Never leave home without it…_ He picked a small rock off the ground, and tied it to the flowers so it would make a convenient weight. Then he bent towards his friend again, whispering into her ear. "When I give the signal, run. And for now, hold your breath." Not waiting for a reply, he tossed the small bouquet into the campfire, watching the grownups around it intently. For a few moments nothing happened. Then, red smoke rose from the fire and one of the large and fur-clad warriors started giggling, getting louder and louder with every passing second. Another one joined in, and a third one screamed and covered his head with his hands. "The sky is falling!" he yelled, running around in small and panicky circles. "The sky is falling!" As for the Witch, she had dropped to all fours like a dog, and was barking loudly at the moon, pausing now and then to pant loudly with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. A small and satisfied smile crossed the boy's lips at the sight of this. _Heh. How fitting._   
The herb had worked just as it should, exactly like he remembered it from his lessons in herbal lore. Infamous for the hallucinations its smoke caused, it would drive people temporarily out of their minds. Of course, there were always a few fools who tried it voluntarily. For now, it had certainly served its purpose. The camp was in an uproar, with people running here, there and everywhere, trying to make sense of what was going on, and it was past time to get out of here. Giving Poppy a swift nudge he ran, making sure to keep out of the wind so they wouldn't get in the way of the smoke. 

Poppy ran as fast as she could, following her friend into the night and out into the plains again, still managing to marvel at the enormous amount of stars visible overhead, like sparkling jewels on a black cloth. Eventually, they were far enough away that they felt reasonably certain they wouldn't be discovered, and they stopped, hiding themselves in the high grass once more. As they lay there, Poppy suddenly noticed something. "The ring!" she exclaimed. "It's glowing again, look!" 

"It must have recharged itself," her Best Friend said with a brief nod. "I thought it would, given enough time." 

"Will you try it again?" 

"Sure. I think I know how to do it now. As long as I tell it exactly where we want to go, it should work." Having put his arm about her shoulders he pulled her closer towards him, and then she saw him twist the glowing ring around, fingers trembling a little. "Home…" she heard him murmur, his brows knitted together in deep concentration. "Take us home." Then there was a brief flash of light, and they were in a different place altogether. 

It wasn't the Assassin's Guild back in Surthay, unfortunately. Rather, it was a deep dark forest. Tall pines and firs crowded in on the two children like silent giants, leaning over them. The smell of bark and pine needles was strong, and there was thick moss on the ground. Apart from that, it was too dark to see anything much. "Dekkie?" Poppy asked. "Where are we?" 

"I…I don't know," her friend said, sounding quite dismayed. "I meant for us to go home, I really tried. I don't know what went wrong." 

Poppy sighed. "Well, at least I guess those bad men can't get us here." Then she thought of something unpleasant. "Dekkie? Do you think there might be wolves here?" 

"Don't know, but wolves don't tend to attack people anyway." 

"Oh. That's all right then." 

"Bears might though. They're more aggressive." 

"Oh! Er…think there are any bears here?" 

"I have no idea. But even if there are, we can't do anything about it." With that, he slumped onto the ground, yawning with exhaustion. "Wish I could have set an angry bear on those _Tarllys-Gardje Wychlaran_." 

"Yeah!" Poppy enthusiastically agreed, joining her friend on the ground and resting her head against his chest. She was silent for approximately three seconds. "Dekkie? What does that mean?" 

"I can't tell you. I'm not even supposed to know that sort of words." 

"Aw, pleeeeease?" 

"No." 

"Come on! You can whisper it to me, then you won't really have said it out loud, will you?" 

The boy considered this. "All right," he said, moving over towards her. Poppy's eyes went very large and round as he whispered into her ear, and her mouth dropped slowly open. 

"Wow!" the halfling said. "I didn't even know you could do that with a dead goat. Wouldn't it be kind of…" 

"Poppy, it's just something you say. At least I think so. I don't think even grownups could possibly be that strange." 

"I don't know…grownups do all sorts of strange things. Like trying to make you go to bed when you aren't sleepy, or wash when you aren't dirty. Or think that it's possible to play outside and avoid mud puddles." Poppy yawned again. "Dekkie? I'm really really hungry now, aren't you?" 

"Yes. But it's too dark to look for food now, we'd only get more lost." He sighed, sounding deeply regretful. "I'm really sorry about that. I don't know what went wrong, I thought I did it right. You heard me, I told that stupid ring that I wanted to go home. But now we're still lost, and it's not working again." 

"Hey, you did your best! Nobody can make everything work out right." 

"I could. Or I should. But I will get us home, I promise. Somehow." 

"Of course you will. Say, Dekkie? How about telling me that story now? You did promise." 

Her Best Friend was silent for a moment. "Yes," he finally said. "And I will. But not until tomorrow. I…need to get some rest first." After that he was silent, and the two children cuddled up against each other in an uneasy sleep, as a pack of wolves howled in the far distance, little rodents scurried squeaking across the forest floor, and the pale moon rose high over the treetops. 

Poppy was awakened early the next morning by her Best Friend nudging her. Yawning, she sat up, squinting at the sun that trickled down through the treetops. Immediately, her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and very loudly too. “Ouch…” she winced. “I’m really super hungry now.” 

“Well, we’re in luck, sort of,” her Best Friend said. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.” He pointed at a large leaf on the ground, on which a fairly large heap of wild strawberries lay. 

“Ooooh! Food! Here, let’s split them. One for me, one for you, one for me, one for you…” 

“That’s all right. I had some already, while you were sleeping. Go on, you have them.” 

Poppy was just about to cram a fist full of strawberries into her mouth when she suddenly thought of something. Her Best Friend was looking far too indifferent for her liking. “Yeah, right,” she said, feeling a little annoyed. “How many? One? Two?” 

The boy looked a little embarrassed and avoided meeting her eyes. “Three, if you must know.” 

“Dekkie, you’re hopeless, you know that? I don’t want you to starve yourself for my sake, don’t you get that?” 

“But I’m more used to going without than you are. I can manage, honestly.” 

“No buts! If you don’t eat just as much as I do, I’ll…I’ll hold you down and ram them down your throat myself, see if I don’t!” 

For a moment her Best Friend’s eyebrows knitted together with annoyance, but then a big and rare smile split his face, lighting it up. “You would too, wouldn’t you? Fine, fine, you win. Let’s split them then.” 

The strawberries didn’t exactly satiate the children’s hunger, but they took the edge off it and mostly quenched their thirst, making them feel a little stronger than before. Once this immediate urge was satisfied, Poppy looked about herself curiously. The wood wasn’t quite as dense as it had seemed the night before, there was space enough between the trees to allow the sun to filter down, forming alternating pools of light and shadow. Many kinds of sweetly smelling flowers grew in patches on the ground, birds chirped in the treetops and now and then she could hear a small rustle as some little rodent passed by them. Unfortunately, there were also quite a few mosquitoes and flies, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. The halfling eyed a black squirrel watching from a branch and fingered her sling consideringly. Strawberries were good, but meat would be even better. However, the animal disappeared before she had the time to get out a proper stone. She turned to her Best Friend instead, intent on other matters. 

The boy was sitting with his back leaning against a tall tree with silvery bark, his hands on his knees. He was twisting a strand of grass between his fingers, as if he needed something to keep himself occupied, and he was looking very thoughtful. “We’re still in Rasheman, in case you were wondering,” he said. 

“How do you know?” 

“See that tree over there?” 

Poppy looked in the appointed direction, to see another of the silvery trees. However, long and narrow strips of bark had been peeled from this one, creating odd patterns along the trunk. “That’s a Rashemani birch,” her friend said. “They only grow here, and they’re very special. You can peel strips of the bark, like that, without hurting the tree, and then you can make all sorts of things from them if you know how. Baskets, boxes, knife handles, that sort of thing. The older bark is darker and the newer layers lighter, so you can even make patterns and decorations. My parents used to gather it during part of the year, and then we’d go back to live with the rest of the tribe and spend the rest of the year making stuff. Some for trading with other tribes, and some for ourselves. I used to get to help, I probably still remember how.” He looked steadfastly at the tree. “For all I know, it could have been me who peeled that one in the first place. I was quite good at it too, you know.” 

“Yes?” Poppy said, biting her nails and hardly daring to breathe. She could sense that the story she had been waiting for so long to hear was finally forthcoming. 

“Yes.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a particularly happy smile. “Good practice for lock picking, I guess. And I suppose I could always take up basket weaving if I should change my mind about being an assassin. But anyway, that wasn’t the only thing I got training in.” His voice had gone curiously empty now, and his eyes were looking far off into the distance, into another time and place. “You wanted to know how come I could see those wards back at the camp? Simple enough. It…was mage sight.” 

“Mage sight? But…” 

“But I’m not a mage?” Again that faint, mirthless smile. “No. I’m not. But I should have been. And I was trained for it, up until last year that is. That was when They came.” 

“Th-they?” 

“The _Wychlaran_. The Witches of Rasheman. They’re the real rulers, you know. They think they own the country, and they think they own us. It’s funny…if I’d happened to be a girl I guess I’d have become one of them. But in Rasheman, the male mages don’t take part in ruling. They serve.” His voice was cold with hatred by now, and raw with old pain, but though she ached to say something comforting Poppy didn’t dare to do so at the moment. He needs to tell me, and if I interrupt him he may never get started again. “Like I said, they serve,” her Best Friend said, still staring into the distance. They’re all cooped up in these caves high up in the mountains, and they spend all their time making magical items for the Witches to use, for as long as they live. And they live quite a long time too, the Witches see to that with magic. Guess they don’t want to waste anybody while they can still use them. The _vremyonni_ is what they’re called. The Old Ones. But who wants to live a long life as a slave? Not me. They aren’t even allowed to leave for a short while if the _Wychlaran_ don’t let them, and they don’t tend to do that. I guess they’re too afraid they’ll lose their…pets.” 

Poppy was feeling quite nauseous by now, but from the stony look on her friend’s face she had a feeling it was going to get worse. 

“Of course,” he said, “I hadn’t exactly been told about that bit. They put that off until it was time for me to be taken away. Then they told me, and then they told me that it had to be my own choice. I could refuse if I wanted to, but I wouldn’t enjoy it. But I told them no anyway. They hadn’t told me what would happen, but how bad could it be, I thought?” He gave a short sound that was halfway between laughter and a sob. “Stupid me. It was worse. Far worse.” By now he was leaning his arms on his knees, and had buried his face in the crook of one elbow. “Yes,” he said, his voice muffled. “Far worse. They took it away. They said they wouldn’t allow me to cause any damage by being disobedient and a rogue magic user, and then they cut my mind open with their spells and took the magic away. It hurt. Actually, it still does.” He was silent for a few seconds, and then went on. “I still dream about it sometimes.” 

_Do I ever know_ , Poppy thought, tears streaming down her cheeks. _Those are the dreams that have you practically screaming in your sleep, aren’t they? Oh Dekkie. Why didn’t you tell me?_

“I thought they’d kill me,” the boy went on. “Then I hoped they would. But they didn’t.” Again that terrible coldness crept into his voice. “They told me that I could still be useful, once I got old enough. Like with horses.” 

“Horses?” 

“Yes. If you have a really fast horse, and it hurts its leg so it can’t run as fast anymore, you don’t always have to kill it, or at least not at once. You can use it first. You know. To get some fast foals.” 

Poppy had grown up on a farm, and she had an idea of what he meant, but she didn’t want to think about it too hard. Doing so made her stomach heave. 

“I didn’t really want that,” her Best Friend went on, still speaking into his elbow, “and I got very lucky. I managed to kill one of Them, and I managed to get away. I almost died on the way to Thay though. Then Master Odesseiron found me, you know, my sponsor into the Guild.” He paused for a moment. “I know he only saved me because he thought I could be useful to him, but I still owe him. He’s no different than other grownups. They only care about how they can use you.” 

“Not everybody…what about…what about your parents? Didn’t they…” 

Again that sound that wasn’t quite laughter. “My **parents**? Oh, they cared all right. About ‘doing the proper thing.’ I guess they were really disappointed in me. They certainly looked like it when they looked on as the Witches did…what they did. But they never cared about me. They…approved of what was done. I had shamed them, I guess, by refusing. It was bad for the family honor, and that I finally couldn’t help screaming for help wouldn’t have made things better. So don’t talk to me about parents. They only wanted me for as long as they thought they could sell me to the Wychlaran like a prize horse, and then when I wasn’t useful any longer I might as well have been garbage. The parents of the children who get taken away get paid well enough, I’m sure my parents were very disappointed. And that’s how grownups are. If you’re no use to them, then they don’t want you.” 

“Not my parents.” 

“Maybe. Maybe halflings are different. I don’t know, but I do know about humans.” 

“What about Master Gorbia though? He’s nice to us, isn’t he?” 

“Oh, sure. Because we’re going to become part of the Guild one day, and earn him back the money and time invested in us.” 

For a moment Poppy wondered if she should mention Emalen, but then she decided against it. After all, it was the elf who had upset her friend enough to get them into this mess in the first place. Instead, she scooted over to get closer to her friend, and then wrapped her arms firmly around his neck. “Well, **I** care,” she said. “You’re my Best Friend and I care a lot, and I want you around for a very long time and don’t care if you’re useful or not, and…and I’d like to smack those nasty Witches for hurting you like that, and stab them, and choke them, and…and I don’t want you to be any other way than you are. Except maybe a little happier. You know that, right?” 

There were a few seconds silence, and then she felt her Best Friend carefully hug her back, as he exhaled slowly in a long breath of relief. “Yes,” he finally said, and there was a strange sense of wonder in his voice. “Yes Poppy. I do know that. And thanks for bugging me about this. I…didn’t want to tell you at first, but now that I have it feels good.” 

“Sure thing,” the halfling said with a broad grin. “I’m your Best Friend, like I said. I’ll always be happy to bug you when you need it.” 

“You know what? I believe you.” 

Having sat in companionable silence for a while, the two apprentice assassins eventually set out through the forest. Since they didn’t know where they were, it didn’t really make any difference in which direction they went, but they took care to try to keep as straight a path as they could. After all, as Poppy put it, walking in circles would get them nowhere, but if they just kept straight the forest had to end sometime. Not even her friend’s comment that some of the Rasheman forests were big enough that you could walk through them for weeks without seeing another person was enough to daunt her spirits. At least there weren’t any Witches here, which was definitely to be counted on the plus side of things. As cheerful as she normally was, the halfling still felt very angry whenever she thought about her friend’s story, angry enough that it made her want to hurt those ‘Nasty Bad Witches’ really bad. She privately resolved to do so if she ever got the chance.


	6. Lady of the Lake

A short while later, Poppy was already in a better mood, and her spirits soared even more when the children reached a small meadow, with dewy, emerald green grass, and a ring of pretty purple toadstools, plump and soft. “Oh, look!” she cried out. “Look at all those pretty butterflies!” Without waiting for a response she scampered over towards the shimmering multicolored wings she had seen fluttering above the meadow. 

“Wait!” she heard her Best Friend cry out behind her. “Poppy, watch out! Those are…” 

And then there was a multitude of tiny voices chattering at her, and she suddenly found herself lifted into the air, and dangled upside-down as little hands fingered her curiously. Suddenly something was clinging to her nose, and a small face was staring at her. The creature looked like a very small elf, with pointy ears and a sharp face, but its skin was a pale green, and it had translucent fluttering wings, which explained why she had mistaken it for a butterfly. “Big ones!” it said in a voice like a mosquito. “What do they want, what do they want? Want to play, maybe?” 

“You’ll put her down right now,” Poppy heard her Best Friend say, “or you’ll be sorry!” Then he gasped with alarm, as he had to swat at a dozen of the flying things, all of them attempting to lift him by the ears. 

“Leave off!” Poppy said. “We’ll be nice and play with you, but only if you’re nice to us.” This seemed to calm the creatures, and she soon found herself on the ground again, a swarm of gossamer wings swirling about her head. “Wow…” she said. “You sure are pretty…” 

The little beings giggled happily at this, some of them joining hands and dancing in circles in the air. “They’re pixies,” Poppy heard her Best Friend say. “I've seen them before, they're pretty common here. But all magical creatures and monsters are more common in Rasheman than anywhere else, it's something to do with the land itself and all those spirits everywhere. Pixies are usually friendly, but they like to play tricks on people.” 

_I guess Rasheman really is a bit like the stories I've heard about it_ Poppy thought. _Magic and monsters and strange things everywhere. Except none of the stories told about the Witches hurting children. I think they are probably worse than any monster we could run into_. 

“Tricks is lotsa fun!” one of the pixies cheerfully agreed. “Tricksy pixies!” It laughed, a sound like little tinkling bells. “Why you here in pixie circle?” 

“We’re lost. Do you know how we can get out of the forest?” 

“Pixies know everything! We’re as clever as we’re pretty!” 

“So, can you tell us how to get out of the forest?” 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” 

“And **will** you tell us?” 

The pixie squealed with delight, making a loop in the air. “Nuh-uh! Not unless you play with us first!” 

Poppy heard her Best Friend give a small sigh of resignation. A silver-winged pixie had settled down on his head and seemed to be trying to comb his tangled hair, using its fingers, while another was doing acrobatics on his shoulder. “All right,” he said. “But only if you get us something to eat first.” 

The pixies provided a pretty wide assortment of food. There were different kinds of fruits and nuts, fresh water, and a jar of wonderfully sweet honey, much of which wound up smeared over the children's hands and faces. Afterwards they felt quite satisfied, and quite willing to join the pixies in a fast-paced game of tag, all across the meadow. Poppy found the experience delightful, and even more so since her Best Friend seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. _I guess he really needed to tell me that stuff_ , she thought. _I wonder how he managed to go for so long without anybody to talk to, and not go insane._

Once they were too breathless with exertion and laughter to be able to run anymore, the children settled down in the soft grass again, the pixies fluttering about their heads. "Will you tell us how to get out of the forest now?" Dekaras asked. 

"Yes!" one the pixies replied. "Is far, and we not go that far, but the Lady in the Lake knows the way. We show you to her, and she show you, yes?" 

"Lady in the Lake?" the boy asked. "Who's she? Some sort of water spirit?" 

The pixies looked confused. "She's the Lady in the Lake," they said, as if that explained everything. "She very powerful. You go see her, she help you. She sees very far." With that, a pair of the pixies broke off from the flock and flew deeper into the forest, waving eagerly! "Come! Come!" they called out. "You follow, we take you to the Lady!" 

After maybe half an hour, the forest grew a little denser, and by now the forest floor was in complete shadow. There was something else that was bothering Poppy, a heavier, more oppressive feeling in the air, as if something was lurking just out of sight. "Dekkie?" she whispered to her friend. "Do you think the pixies can be trusted?" 

Her Best Friend nodded. "I think so," he said. "They like to play tricks, like I said, but they're not **bad** , not like some other faerie folk. They wouldn't try to hurt us on purpose." Then he looked a little worried. "Of course, they may not realise exactly what sort of things could be dangerous to us." 

The two pixies came flying up to them at this moment, looking very excited. "There, there!" one of them said, pointing ahead. "Lake up ahead, home of the Lady. You go talk to her now! See ya, bye bye!" 

"Wait!" Poppy said. "Suppose the Lady isn't home, or doesn't want to help us?" 

"You just take this as thanks for nice playtime," one of the pixies, the one with a silvery body and green hair said. "If you want play some more, you call us, and you can join us and be happy pixies, yes?" It dropped a small silver object into the halfling's palm, and then disappeared along with its companion. 

"I don't really think being a 'happy pixie' is my thing," Poppy heard her Best Friend mutter. "Far too chirpy. What did you get?" 

Poppy looked at the thing. "It looks like a whistle," she said, holding the tiny instrument up. "I guess it's magical." 

"Probably. But we shouldn't use it unless we absolutely have to. Like I said, pixies like playing tricks. It could give us both pink hair, or…or turn us into squirrels or something." 

"Being a squirrel sounds like it could be pretty fun, actually!" 

"Not in the middle of a forest inhabited by foxes and wolves, it doesn't. Let's go check out that lake instead. With any luck, that 'Lady' won't try to turn us into anything nasty or kill us or anything…" 

The ground started sloping steeply downwards now, and as the children started climbing down a rocky hill they could see the lake below them. It wasn't particularly big, and its water was completely still, with not so much as a ripple crossing it. It was also black, as black as midnight, and eerie reflections of the tall spruces that surrounded it flickered across the shiny surface. Some lily pads floated here and there, but that was the only sign of life. "I don't like this," Poppy said once they had reached the shore and stood watching the still water nervously. "What do you think that Lady is like?" 

"I've no idea," her Best Friend said. He was biting his lip a little, looking ill at ease. "Rasheman is full of spirits you see, as I said before, more so than anywhere else I think. They're everywhere, in the lakes, in the trees, in the rocks and the earth. So this will be some kind of Lake Spirit, but there are many different kinds, and not all of them are nice. I think I'd better talk to her first, in Rasheman all children are taught how to talk to spirits." He cleared his throat, then called out in a loud voice. 

_Avar, sirdje Laran! Mern bannin t'djal._

"What did you say?" Poppy whispered. 

"I just greeted her, requesting her aid. Let's see if she wants to show herself." Since they were staring intently at the water, the children were able to see the first ripple crossing the surface. Then there was another one, and another, and a brief glimpse of something white beneath the surface. And then the Lady of the Lake appeared, rising smoothly and silently out of the water, without a single splash. She was fairly close to the shore, and yet only her head and naked shoulders were visible, so the water had to be very deep. At first glance she looked like a beautiful human woman, with long and shimmering green hair and sparkling green eyes. But as you looked closer you could see that there were things that didn't quite fit about her. For one thing those eyes didn't have any pupils, nor any whites, and they were too bright in colour. There were rotting weeds clinging to the tangled locks of long hair, and the woman didn't seem to care about that, nor about the faint stench of rot that surrounded her. "Children…" she said in a soft voice, and though it was pleasant and musical there was also an undertone of darkness, and of things slowly dissolving beneath the water. "Such pretty little children. It has been a very long time since anybody came to visit me, I was beginning to feel lonely…" 

"That's no ordinary lake spirit!" Dekaras hissed, catching hold of Poppy's arm and dragging her a few steps backwards from the water. "That's a Rusalka!" 

"A what?" 

"A Rusalka! A sort of undead, a woman who died by drowning and tries to drown anybody who comes near the lake where she died! She's incredibly dangerous, don't look into her eyes or she'll try to enchant you into getting in the water, and then she'll drag you down!" 

"Wait, children!" the Rusalka said, raising a pale hand out of the water. "Do not run from me, little ones. I mean you no harm. Grown men alone are my prey, men like him, like the one who drowned me when I told him I was carrying a little one of my own, a child of his loins. Ah, I miss my vadja, my child, my little one… When my lover returned to this lake on the night one year after my murder, I sang to him and called to him, and dragged him down, and now he sleeps silently, deep in the mud. But I would not harm a child. Why have you sought me out?" 

Poppy looked on nervously as her Best Friend addressed the spirit once more. "We are lost," he said. "We're trying to get home. Sirdje Laran, lake Lady, we were told by the pixies in the glade to the south that you might be able to help us. Will you?" 

The Rusalka smiled faintly, her green eyes shining more brightly than before. "I might," she said. "Yes, _vadja_ , I will try. But first I must ask you to do something for me. Come, let me explain it to you. I have the power to see the past, the present and the future to a great extent, and that means I can see the best way for you to go home. But to do so I need an item, my enchanted mirror that I use for scrying. Nothing else will do, for it is tied to me, as surely as I am tied to this lake. But my mirror has been recently stolen from me, and unless it is returned I cannot help you. I cannot even go take it back myself, for I cannot go far from my lake without withering and being destroyed. If you would have my help, you must first help me get my mirror back, but I warn you. It would be very dangerous, and you might be better off trying to find your own way." 

"Why is it so dangerous?" Poppy asked. "Who stole your mirror?" 

The Rusalka's mouth tightened and she hugged herself tightly. "It was Baba Yaga," she said. "The wicked old crone, the hag in the chicken-legged hut. Now do you see, children? I cannot ask you to do this, Baba Yaga would surely kill you and eat you both, and add your little bones to the fence around her cottage." 

The young Dekaras had been listening to this story with very mixed feelings. Rusalki were supposed to be very dangerous, and not to be trusted. _But then again, **I** want to be really dangerous, and I can be trusted. And she was honest enough to tell the truth. And she was betrayed once too…along with her poor baby. Serves the one who did it right that she drowned him_. Also, the Rusalka looked like a grownup, and grownups couldn't really be trusted, at leat not human ones, but she wasn't really a human, not any more, and that made things different. And she hadn't tried to trick them into doing what she wanted, she had said openly that it might be best if they didn't try. Besides, he liked her. She seemed so sad, and as if she really missed her dead child, and she had a kind voice. _I guess I wouldn't have minded having her for a mother, if I still needed one. She's nice, undead or not. Not that I do need one, but still…_

"All right," he said, trying to sound business-like, but not being quite able to keep all the tension out of his voice. "I'll do it." 

"WHAT?" Poppy yelled. "Are you crazy? No, forget it, I know you are. You'll get us both killed!" 

"No I won't. Because you won't be going with me." 

"Oh really?" Poppy asked, crossing her arms across her chest. "And what makes you think that?" 

"Because it's my fault we're here in the first place, and I don't want to risk you getting hurt." He stared at the ground, not quite daring to meet the halfling's eyes. "You'll be better off waiting here." 

And then his Best Friend suddenly threw herself at him, the surprise assault tackling him to the ground, and sat on him, glaring into his face. It was really quite annoying, her being smaller than he was and all, if not by much. "Forget it, Dekkie," Poppy said in a steely voice. "You're not going anywhere without me. You need me. And it's not your fault I'm here, how many times do I have to say that? You didn't make me come, I came because I wanted to." 

"But…" 

"No buts! If you don't promise that I can come I'll…I'll stay right here, on top of you! And I'll tickle you till you say I can, you know I'm not kidding." 

"But…" 

"And don't even think about sneaking off on your own when I'm not looking. I'd follow you, and then we'd get in trouble separately." 

The boy heaved a great sigh. There was really no arguing with Poppy once she put her foot down like this, she could be a stubborn as a mule when she wanted to. "All right, all right!" he said, a little testily. "I guess you can come." 

"Thanks, Dekkie!" the halfling chirped, and then proceeded to plant a big kiss on the tip of his nose. "I knew you'd come around."


	7. Bare Bones and Chicken Legs

Having been given directions from the Rusalka the children set off through the forest once more. Poppy was satisfied now that she was certain her Best Friend wouldn’t go off to do anything foolish on his own, and she was rather enjoying the adventure. “Dekkie?” she asked after a little while. “Just what is a Baba Yaga anyway?” 

“Not a Baba Yaga,” her friend replied. He sounded worried, and that was a bad sign in itself. “There is only one Baba Yaga, and she is incredibly dangerous. There are these really nasty stories…” 

“Yes, but what is she?” 

“Nobody knows for certain. She could be a really old Witch, she could be some form of Hag or an ogress, maybe even a minor goddess. But it is known that she is really ugly, really strong in magical power, and that she enjoys human flesh above anything else.” 

“Oh.” Poppy was silent for a moment. “Er…how about halfling flesh?” 

“I wouldn’t gamble on her passing you up if I were you,” her friend dryly replied. “She might want dessert.” 

“Oh. So, how are we going to kill her?” 

“Kill her?” the boy said in an incredulous voice, practically gaping at her. “Of course we can’t kill her. The best we can hope for is to get that mirror somehow and get out alive. And let me tell you, it won’t be easy.” 

“But you always say that there’s nobody in the world that a really good assassin can’t get to!” 

“Well, yes. And maybe, just maybe, if we were grownups and fully trained, we could pull it off. But not now.” A thoughtful look crept into his black eyes. “Unless maybe we could push her into her oven or something…but it’s better not to take chances. It’s not as if we need to kill her anyway.” 

After some time, the forest grew even darker than before, the only source of light being that of pale mushrooms shimmering against the damp black soil. There was a heavy, earthy smell in the air, and it was very quiet. Poppy thought that her breathing sounded extremely loud in her ears, and it bothered her that she no longer saw any animals about, not even the flies and mosquitoes who had annoyed her so much before. _There are only dead things here_ , she thought. _Dead things…and us. And I really, really, really hope we’re not about to become dead things._

“Look…” her friend suddenly said, pointing ahead. The halfling squinted a little to see what he had spotted, and then she gasped. It was a narrow road winding off through the forest, but that wasn’t what had startled her. The road was bordered by a tall fence on either side, a fence made completely out of bleached bones, smooth and yellow with old age. Thigh bones, leg bones, ribcages…and all of them human, or at least humanoid. There were fence posts as well, and on top of every single one sat a grinning human skull, watching the children with dark and empty eye sockets. 

Not taking her eyes off the grim spectacle, Poppy wondered if her quick heartbeat might be heard all the way to the place where the owner of the fence and the fence posts lived. She hoped not. Beside her, she heard her Best Friend swallow heavily, and without even needing to look at each other, the children reached out to grasp each other’s hands tightly. Then they started down the road, side by side. 

The road went on and on, and just when Poppy thought it was never going to end it started sloping downward, into a narrow valley. She thought she could just make out some sort of house nestled deep within the shadows, but before she had the time to take a closer look she heard a sound, as of approaching thunder. Then there was another shadow, passing high overhead, and the sound of laughter drifting down from above the treetops. “What was that?” the halfling asked once she was finally able to speak again. 

“I…can’t be sure of course,” her Best Friend said, and his eyes looked huge in his pale face. Poppy didn’t doubt that she appeared much the same. “But I think it was Baba Yaga. She is said to have this enchanted mortar that she flies about in. Don’t ask me why, I’d prefer something more comfortable myself. Like one of those Calimshite carpets maybe.” Despite his attempt at a joke, Poppy didn’t doubt for a second that he was just as unnerved as she was and trying to keep up appearances for her sake. She decided to do the same. 

“Yeah…” she said, grinning faintly. “Or how about a flying bed? Now that I would really like.” 

They both giggled loudly at this, and if there was a strong undercurrent of nervousness beneath the levity they both pretended not to notice it. 

The children followed the Road of Bones deeper into the dark valley, and eventually it ended at yet another fence of tall and very sharp bones. There was a gate in the fence, and on a stake in front of the gate hung another skull. The gate didn’t seem to have any lock at all, nor any handle. “That’s odd…” Poppy said. “How are we supposed to get inside?” 

“I don’t know,” her Best Friend said, frowning at the gate. “The stories never said anything about this. Let’s take a look.” Both of them carefully examined the gate, searching for the hidden keyhole that almost certainly had to be there, but to no avail. 

“This is silly!” Poppy eventually said. “There has to be something, otherwise how can Baba Yaga herself get inside?” 

“Well, she usually asks me,” said a dry and dusty voice from behind her. Startled, the children turned around to see…nobody at all. 

“Who said that?” the young Dekaras asked in what he probably meant to be a threatening voice, and what probably would have been one if it had only been a few octaves lower. 

“Who else? Me of course. Come around this way, I don’t like you talking to the back of my skull.” 

Suddenly Poppy realized who the speaker had to be. “It’s the skull!” she exclaimed, running around to see for herself. And indeed it was. A faint red light glowed deep within the skull’s eye sockets, and when it spoke again she could clearly hear the voice escaping from between its yellow teeth. 

“So,” the skull said. “Two little kiddies on their way to Baba Yaga. Ain’t that sweet? Not that she’ll find either of you particularly filling, she’ll probably just stick you on a cocktail stick and use you both for appetizers, but hey, it’s the thought that counts.” 

“We’re not little!” Dekaras said, sounding highly insulted. “And we won’t let her eat us.” 

“That’s right,” Poppy agreed. “We do want to see her though. Can you let us in?” 

“Yes.” 

Poppy noticed her Best Friend giving the skull a baleful look as he spoke again. “Really? And would you know, for some strange reason I get the impression that you’re not going to.” 

“That’s right. Or at least not unless you promise to do something for me first.” 

“Such as?” 

The skull chuckled quietly. “If you manage to get out alive, you take me with you when you go.” 

”Why?” 

“What do you think? How would you like being a disembodied skull hanging about on a stick for centuries? I’m bored out of my skull if you must know. I want to see the world, or at least something more exciting than a lot of other deadheads and some trees. Do we have a deal?” 

The children looked at each other. “I guess we don’t have a choice,” Poppy said. “But you get to keep him in **your** room, Dekkie.” 

The boy shrugged. “I don’t mind. I think he’s rather neat, actually.” He turned to the skull. “All right. It’s a deal. Now let us in.” 

“Have fun with Baba Yaga, kiddies,” the skull said as the gate slowly swung open. “Oh, and I hope you can manage the hut all right. It’s been a bit skittish lately. Oh, and Baba herself is very cranky. She bought this amazing magical grain for the hut, one corn to keep it fed for a decade, and then she managed to forget where she hid it, can you believe that? I tell ya, she's about ready to pop an artery…” 

“What did he mean ‘skittish’?” Poppy asked her Best Friend as they slipped through the gate. 

“Well, according to the stories, Baba Yaga’s house is…” The boy fell silent as the house in question became visible. It looked like a fairly small wooden cottage, with a grass-covered roof; a little hut such as you might see anywhere and not give a second glance. That is, apart from the fact that the hut was precariously balancing by a pair of enormous chicken legs, elevating it to the level of the treetops, and that it was also spinning around continuously. “…a bit unusual,” Dekaras finished, not taking his eyes off the hut. “Never thought I’d see it for real. Never wanted to, actually.” 

“So how do we get inside?” 

“There’s said to be some sort of rhyme to make the hut sit down.” 

“Do you know it?” 

“No. We’ll have to think of some other way.” 

“Well,” Poppy said, gazing at the trees adjoining the hut, “we are both good at climbing…” 

Some time later the two apprentice assassins had managed to reach the top of a tallish pine that stood close enough to the hut that they might possible be able to reach it from there. “I guess we’ll have to jump from here,” Poppy said, eyeing the spinning roof a little beneath her. 

“Yes. I’d better go first, by the way.” 

“How come?” 

“Well, I’m a little heavier than you are. If that branch can bear me, it can bear you.” 

“And if it can’t bear you?” Poppy asked, not liking the scenario very much. 

Her Best Friend simply shrugged in that extremely annoying manner he always did when he had already made up his mind about doing something dangerous and wasn’t going to change it. “Then I’d better try to learn to fly really quickly.” Without waiting for a reply he walked out on the branch, swaying a little but keeping his balance. Poppy watched intently, not daring to breathe. Then he jumped, landing on the roof of the chicken-leg hut and clung to the chimney in order to keep steady. The halfling let out her breath explosively, then followed suit. Butterflies churning in her stomach she made her way out on the branch, then concentrated on the spinning roof, while trying not to get dizzy. She didn’t dare wait too long. Finally she jumped, landing neatly on the roof next to her friend and sat down heavily. 

“That was fun!” Poppy said, grinning widely. “And this roof is really something, isn’t it, Dekkie? Look how fast we’re spinning! Round and round and round we go, isn’t this fun!” 

“Not…not that fun,” her friend said, looking a little green in the face. “Not fun at all actually…I think we’d better try to get inside somehow. Or at the very least get down from here.” 

“Why? I want to ride some more. Around and around and around and around…” 

“Poppy, what do you suppose happens if somebody happens to throw up while sitting on the top of a spinning roof?” 

“Er…the puke flies all over the place?” 

“That’s right. So unless you want to risk getting it in the face…” 

“Oh. All right. Pity. I liked going around and around and around…” 

“Will you stop saying that? I don’t know how much longer I can keep it in.” 

It was at this moment that a screechy voice spoke from inside the hut. “Chicken Hut, now stop your trot. Harken, listen up and squat.” Instantly, the hut folded its legs beneath itself, zooming downwards into a sitting position. On the roof, the children clung to the chimney for dear life, just barely managing not to fall off. At least the house had stopped spinning. Poppy peered carefully across the roof, trying to see what was happening on the ground. Somewhere beneath her a door opened with a loud creak, and then there was that voice again, that sounded just about as rusty as the hinges of the door. “Little mice on the roof, I hear you well. Come down, lest I fetch you myself. Did you think you could trick old Baba Yaga? I have good eyes still, and my ears are better. Now come.” 

The children eyed each other nervously, trying to press themselves flat against the roof in order not to be seen. Guess we should have been more quiet, Poppy thought. But it’s too late now. 

“As you wish then, “ the screechy voice said. “Little ones, fly straight and true, Baba Yaga welcomes you.” Without warning, Poppy found herself swept off the roof and flying through the air, until she landed on the ground in front of the hut’s front door. Before she could get her bearings, a strong hand grasped her by the arm and pulled both her and her Best Friend inside. _Oh crud_ , the halfling thought. _I hope she’s eaten already today._


	8. Cooking Habits of a Crone

Dekaras had heard stories of Baba Yaga of course. They were the kind of stories traditionally meant to frighten children into obedience, and that usually have them listening raptly at all the goriest details. He couldn’t remember a single one of the moral lessons that the stories were supposed to teach him, but he could remember Baba Yaga, and was fascinated to see that she was even more horrifying in the flesh. 

Baba Yaga was an ancient crone, but it was very clear that she wasn’t a human one. Her long and hooked nose almost bumped into her equally oversized chin, large and sharp tusks protruded from between her black lips, her warty skin was a strange shade of gray, and her eyes were a clear yellow, and resembled those of a snake. At her hip he could just barely make out something small, something that flickered in and out of sight, glowing with a faint silvery light. Shaggy hair, the bright red of blood, hung like a wild mane about her face, and her hands had nasty claws that were currently digging painfully into his shoulder as she lifted him off the ground to peer directly into his face and give him a full taste of rotting-meat-breath. 

_I wonder if she’s an ogress?_ His mind was strangely calm, an odd lucidity past the realm of fear. _Or a hag? She can’t be human, that’s for sure, not with that nose. I wonder if she really eats people? I wonder if it hurts a lot…_

“What have we here?” Baba Yaga said. “Little mice on the roof turn out to be guests, nice little guests for old Baba Yaga. What do they want, hmmm?” 

“Um…” the boy said, his brain frantically trying to come up with a good excuse. “We’ve…we’ve heard ever so much about you, wise Old Mother. In all of Rasheman there is nobody wiser in the ways of magic than Baba Yaga, everybody knows that.” 

“Yep!” Poppy agreed, her legs dangling in the air as she too was held aloft. “That’s right! Wisest of all, that’s what we heard!” 

“Yes, and we thought we might come here to learn your secrets and benefit from your great wisdom, oh magnificent Baba Yaga!” _I really wish she’d put me down. This is embarrassing._

“Really?” Baba Yaga asked, sounding interested. “My great wisdom, is it? Exactly what was it you wanted to know?” 

Dekaras found himself fighting a horribly overpowering urge to say ‘How come you can eat with your chin bumping into your nose like that?’ and only just barely managed not to. He really didn’t want to remind Baba Yaga of the subject of eating. “We…want to know the future!” he eventually said. That sounded nice and vague enough. “Can you tell us?” 

The crone’s yellow eyes narrowed to mere slits and she smiled unpleasantly. “I could,” she said. “I can tell anybody’s fortune except my own. But why should I? It is far more tempting to feast upon your little juicy selves, with some nice garlic sauce and plums…” 

“You don’t want to eat us!” Poppy protested. “We’re…we’re poisonous! See, we’re in assassin training, and that means we get to eat little itty-bitty bits of poison every day, so we can stand it and not get poisoned ourselves, but it makes us taste really bad and probably we’d give you a bad stomach-ache.” 

The young Dekaras gave his friend a surreptitious look. She sounded perfectly sincere, but of course she was lying. Though some of the adult assassins did build up a resistance to various poisons that way, the children weren’t allowed to. Not that he hadn’t tried of course, using a filched supply of arsenic, but a slight miscalculation had led to him being bedridden for a week, and to being punished with kitchen duties for a month once he was finally strong enough to move about without throwing up. _Unfair. I was that close, I would have got it right eventually. How am I ever supposed to become hardened to common poisons if I’m not allowed to experiment a little?_

Baba Yaga pursed her black lips together. “Poison, is it?” she said. “I wouldn’t want to risk upsetting my lovely stomach. Very well. Boiling you for a few hours should drain the poison out." 

"Wait!" the boy protested. "You can't do that!" 

The flat yellow eyes bored into his own. "Can't I, now? And why would you say that, hmmm?" 

"Well, that would completely spoil the taste, wouldn't it? We'd be all overcooked and you wouldn't enjoy the meal at all. You'd be far better off leaving us alone for a few days before eating us." 

The hag nodded. "Yes. Good point. Garlic will help, but it would be a shame to spoil such tender young morsels. And I'd rather have you baked in the oven than cooked anyway…come with me then, my tasty ones. And as for your future, I can tell you one thing already. It will be **short**. 

With that, she stuffed one child under each arm and headed deeper into the hut. Her grip was very strong, and struggling proved to be quite fruitless. The inside of Baba Yaga’s cottage seemed strangely large, much vaster than the outside had been, and mostly dark. Despite their precarious situation, the children spotted many strange things, some wondrous, some terrifying. There were herbs hanging from the ceiling, and strange runes and markings scratched into the floor, some of which seemed to be painted in blood. There were disgusting things floating about in jars, and stuffed animals watching with glassy eyes from shelves high up on the walls, walls that climbed upwards into infinity. And there…there was a stuffed human man as well, right between a young bear and a goat. He was sitting there on the shelf, skin a little cracked and dusty from age, staring blindly at nothing. The young Dekaras swallowed heavily as he saw that. Killing people was one thing. But this was the stuff of nightmares. _Of course_ , he thought, trying to be logical about it, _to her a human probably is the same as a goat_. Somehow, that wasn’t a very comforting thought, logical though it was. 

Eventually, Baba Yaga took the children into a smaller room, one that contained a large sack, and some assorted boxes of odds and ends. It seemed to be a form of cupboard. A small candle provided faint illumination. “There we are, my little sweetlings,” Baba Yaga said, pushing them inside. "You just stay put until that nasty poison runs its course, and I'll be back later." 

The two children wordlessly looked at each other. "Dekkie?” Poppy eventually said. “What’s your plan?” 

“Um…” the boy said. Not having a plan was definitely not an option, he could see that much. He had got them into this, and his Best Friend was counting on him to get them out. That meant he had to do just that. Somehow. Preferably without them both getting eaten. There was something nudging at the back of his mind, trying to remind him of something, and then he did remember. “Did you see the mirror?” he said. “The Rusalka’s magical mirror? Baba Yaga was carrying it at her waist, stuffed into her belt. All we need to do is to get close enough to her, and I’m sure we could filch it.” 

“Get close to her?” Poppy said. “I didn’t see it, no. And I thought we wanted to get away from her.” 

“Well, that too. That’s the part I haven’t quite figured out yet. You're sure you didn't see the mirror?" 

"Nope." 

"That's strange." He paused, thinking about it. _I wonder…yes. It must have been the mage sight again, just like with the wards back in the camp of the Wychlaran. Probably the mirror has a concealment spell on it or something. So the hag wouldn't have expected us to know it was there. That's useful to know. Should make it easier to steal it. Of course, there's the tiny detail about getting close to her without winding up in a pot. I guess I need to work on the plan a little more._

Time passed, more time passed and the children examined their prison. There didn't seem to be much of interest in there. Old clothes and boots in boxes, some ancient carpets, a sack of stinking garlic and another one filled with grains. "That's funny," Poppy said, running her fingers through the grains. "Do you think she enjoys baking? My Ma used to bake a lot, but I don't think I'd want to eat anything that Baba Yaga made." 

"No, me neither. Probably it'd be made from bonemeal, and sludge, and…and mandrake juice or something disgusting like that." Then something occurred to him. "Poppy…didn't that skull outside say something about a magical grain that Baba Yaga had lost? That she'd hidden and couldn't find?" 

The halfling nodded. "I think so, yes." 

"So, I just thought…hiding something in plain sight is pretty much classical. And the best way to hide a magical grain would be?" 

Poppy's eyes went to the sack. "Among thousands of others…I get it. Think she'd be grateful if we found it for her?" 

"Maybe. But I wouldn't count on it. It might buy us some valuable time though. And I think I just might be able to find it." It wasn’t as if he had much choice. The magical ring still hadn’t recharged itself, even if he had known how to use it properly. But it would recharge soon, according to his time calculations, and then he would have to take a chance. Going directly home hadn't worked; perhaps the magic prevented that somehow. A different destination might work better however. It was worth a try. In the meantime, he'd have to keep the hag occupied, exactly how didn't much matter. 

It was even later, maybe a couple of hours later or so, and by now he was almost beginning to despair, but he forced himself to go on all the same, carefully examining one grain at a time, waiting for something, anything about it to leap out at him and proclaim it the one he sought. That was the tricky thing about mage sight. Sometimes it worked on its own, but sometimes you had to force it to work, and he hadn’t exactly been practicing lately. Quite the opposite. Ever since he’d started coming to terms with losing the magic, he’d been trying to forget it ever existed, that it had even been part of him. He had made himself forget, because remembering hurt. _Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have known better. Knowing things makes you more powerful, whatever it is. I should have known I might need to do something like this at some point._ He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, shifting through the grains, and the heap of already examined ones seemed pitifully small compared to the unexamined ones. By now his neck was burning from the constant strain of bending over, his fingers were aching and so were his eyes. The dim light in the room didn’t exactly help. _Suppose I miss it? Suppose I’ve missed it already? No! I can’t, I mustn’t! Have to go faster…_ A pair of small hands firmly rubbed at his neck, smoothing the aching knots in his muscles out, replacing the pain with lovely warmth. 

“Take it easy,” Poppy said. “Don’t rush. You'll find it.” It felt nice. _Perhaps I can do this after all. I will. I have to_. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was a faint blue glow, hidden within the mass of regular grains, and his fingers deftly snatched the magical one up, holding it triumphantly aloft. “I got it!” he said, grinning widely despite the headache and the backache and the fact that his eyes felt as if they were bleeding. “I really got it!” 

“Of course you did,” his Best Friend said, smiling back. “I told you so, didn’t I? You should listen to me more often, Dekkie, you really should.” 

“Yes,” he said, unable to wipe that silly smile off his face. “I suppose I should.” 

Eventually Baba Yaga returned, as she had promised, and the children were waiting for her. “Well, my sweetlings?” the hag asked. “Is that nasty poison gone yet? I'm getting impatient, I'm thinking of boiling you after all." 

"No," Dekaras said. "It's not gone. But maybe there's something else you want instead." He held up the magical grain, pleased to notice the greedy gleam in the hag's eyes. 

"My grain!" she gasped. "You found it, and I thought I had lost if for good! Give it to me at once!" 

"You know, I really don't think so. Not unless you do something for us." 

Baba Yaga bared her tusks, and as she raised her hands he felt fluttery butterflies in his stomach at the sight of the long claws on her fingers. "And why shouldn't I simply take it from your clever little corpse instead?" 

"Weeelll…" the boy said, dragging the word out. Then he quickly popped the grain into his mouth, hiding it under his tongue. "Maybe because I'll swallow it if you try anything. You could get it out of my stomach after I was dead I suppose, but I think it might be spoilt by then? So, do you want it or not? I'm pretty hungry myself, if you must know." 

The hag hissed angrily, but she looked a bit uncertain. "Oh, bother! It took me an entire year to perfect that grain, and the hut eats so much…I really can't be bothered to make another one. All right. What do you want?" 

Now this was the most dangerous gamble of all. Asking for freedom would seem the best and most natural option, but he didn't trust Baba Yaga to keep her word once she had her grain back. What he really needed to do was to keep her preoccupied for long enough for the ring to recharge, which should be very soon. And he still needed that mirror for the Rusalka as well. That meant getting close enough to the hag to swipe it, and getting away afterwards. The first he thought he could almost certainly do. The second was a bit chancier, but they didn't really have any good options. "I still want my fortune told," he said. "Show me something of my future, Old Mother, and I will give the grain up, I swear it." _And I really hope my future extends past the next ten minutes or so._

Baba Yaga scowled, but then she nodded. "Very well, annoying human. You shall have your wish. Attend closely." 

"Just don't try anything. If you do, my friend here will simply hit me on the jaw, that should make me swallow the grain." 

"That's right," Poppy said, glaring fiercely at Baba Yaga. "So don't try to touch him." 

"A bargain is made," Baba Yaga said, her voice chilly. "Your fortune be told, child - and may it be a dark one for irritating me like this." She raised her hand, making a complex gesture, and muttered a few unfamiliar arcane syllables. Before the boy knew it, the dark room slipped away, and he was somewhere else entirely. 

This new place was a brightly lit room, the walls painted in cheerful colors. An enchanted glass globe spun in the ceiling, sending out a beautiful silvery white light. There was a bed in one corner, a bed that was practically bursting with puffy bolsters, silky sheets and a frothy lace covering. An armada of stuffed toys stared at him from its fluffy heights, all of the very expensive-looking. There were more toys, scattered all over the floor. Dolls, books, drawing materials, balls, and several things the function of which he couldn’t even begin to guess at. Many of them looked magical, but they were so totally out his realm of experience that he couldn’t be sure. Gingerly, he picked up a drawing lying on the floor next to his foot. There was a girl in the picture, wearing an enormous jewel-encrusted crown and a bright red dress, riding a tiger. The writing next to her read: ‘Me – Ruler of All’. 

Puzzled, the boy let the drawing drop to the floor again. There was so much to look at. How could any child possibly have this much? He stared longingly at a miniature dragon, which looked like a live one down to the tiny scales on its nose and the fierce glint in its eyes. _I guess her parents must love her a lot_. 

Then, there was suddenly a voice behind his back, startling him almost into dropping the toy. A piping voice, but still somehow commanding. “Boy!” it said. “Why are you crying?” 

“I was not!” he said, turning around. He hadn’t been. Not really. He never did. And even if he had been it wouldn’t have been anybody else’s business. 

The voice belonged to a small girl, who looked to be about his own age, maybe a year or so younger. She was currently in the process of crawling out from under the bed, but this didn’t stop her from giving him a haughty stare that wouldn’t have looked out of place on an empress. She had raven-black hair that fell all the way down to her waist, currently a little tangled, and her dark eyes fixed him with a curious stare that was pretty unnerving in its intensity. The knee-length silk dress she was wearing was white, or rather had been white before her sojourn under the bed, and it was covered with so much lace and silver thread that it almost made her resemble some sort of expensive confectionary. There were even shining moonstones threaded into the cloth, and into the white hair ribbon she was wearing. Right now she had crossed her thin arms across her chest and she kept giving him that queenly stare, as if she was expecting him to bow. “Well?” she asked, still in that commanding voice. 

“Well what?” 

“What are you doing in my room? Have you come to kill me, to abduct me or to play with me? You’d better watch out if you’re here to kill me – I’ll curse you till your stomach comes out of your ears.” 

“Ha!” the boy said. “You’re just a child, you can’t curse anybody.” 

“Yes I can! If you don’t start being polite I’ll show you! Or I’ll hit you. I’m good at hitting too.” 

“As if you could even touch me. Anyway, I’m not here to kill you, I’m not even sure what I’m doing here.” 

“I’m not surprised,” the girl said with an ominously sweet smile. “You seem very confused, you know.” 

“I’m not confused! I’m just under some sort of spell, and I want to get out of here. What were you doing under the bed, by the way?” 

“Hiding,” the girl said in a matter-of-fact voice. “They want me to go to my stupid cousin’s stupid birthday party, but I won’t. A spell, you say?” Now she sounded interested. Worryingly interested. She had rapidly crossed the distance separating them and was watching his face as if she was trying to memorize it. “You’re not the least bit scared of me, are you?” 

“Scared of you? No! Why would I be?” She didn’t look insane, but he was really starting to wonder. 

“Most people are,” the girl said. “But you’re not…I like that. I like that a lot. I think I’ll keep you.” 

“KEEP ME?” 

“Yes. Obviously you’re some sort of magical creature to appear like this, looking all wild and dangerous. I tried to conjure spirits yesterday, I didn’t think it had worked, but I guess it did. So, I’m going to keep you, Boy. I’ll have to think up some nice name for you, I guess. Something suitable. How about…Lord Mordred? I like that name.” 

That settles it. She is insane. “Nobody ‘keeps’ me,” he hissed into the girl’s face. Irritatingly enough, she simply looked amused. “And I am not a spirit. If I were, I could simply poof myself out of here and I wouldn’t be stuck with you. And my name is not ‘Lord Mordred’ and definitely not ‘Boy’.” 

The annoying creature stuck her tongue out at him. “Not my fault if you can’t be bothered to introduce yourself properly,” she said. Then her dark eyes widened a little. “Look! You’re fading!” As he looked down on himself he noticed that she was right. His body was rapidly becoming more and more transparent; he could see the floor right through himself. “I hope you’ll come back,” the girl said, sounding sincerer than before. “I do like that you’re not afraid of me, even if you’re impossibly rude.” Then, before he was able to stop her, she stepped forward, and he could feel the cool and ghostly brush of her lips against his, even as he kept fading. “By the way,” she said, her voice also fading, “my name is…” 

“Her name is what?” the young Dekaras muttered as reality reasserted itself around him. He had almost heard it, but he couldn’t quite remember. Touching his fingertips to his lips he could almost recall it, but not quite. _What an annoying girl. And my future is supposed to include her somehow? Maybe getting eaten by Baba Yaga isn’t that bad an option after all._

Speaking of Baba Yaga, she was watching both him and Poppy carefully. He was back in the dark hut, as if he had never left. Perhaps he hadn’t. “And now, my sweetlings,” Baba Yaga said. “The grain.” 

Slowly, the boy stepped forward, trying to make himself look hesitant and frightened, something that wasn’t all that difficult considering the circumstances. He raised his hand, but then he let the grain fall to the floor. “Ooops,” he said, with an insincere smile. “Clumsy me. But I did give it up, just as I promised.” _Soon now. Very soon._

“Very amusing, little one,” Baba Yaga growled, but she bent over to pick the grain up, confident in her ability to keep the children at bay. This proved to be a mistake. Swift fingers reached out for her waist, carefully slipping the magical mirror out without her noticing. At the same time, a flood of grains poured across the floor, covering the magical one, as Poppy overturned the sack just in the nick of time. So distracted was the crone by the loss of her one treasure that she quite overlooked the theft of the other. 

“Noooo!” Baba Yaga screamed. “You little monsters! I’ll get you for that!” The children narrowly ducked her claws, raising for the exit, but the crone was coming up behind them, closing in with every step she took. And then a clear, silvery note was heard as Poppy blew the enchanted whistle the pixies had given them, and Baba Yaga stopped in her tracks. Dozens, hundreds of pixies had appeared in the air around her, fluttering their translucent wings in her face and giggling loudly. 

“Playtime!” one of the pixies called out. “Friends have called, and now pixies may play!” He whipped out a tiny fiddle and started playing a rapid and cheerful tune, the other pixies singing in loud and piping voices. Baba Yaga snarled with frustration and rage, but the pixie magic was strong enough to affect even her, and her legs were already twitching helplessly, carrying her around and around, leaping and cavorting in a swift dance. As the two children ran out the door they could still hear her, her heavy footsteps providing a strange contrast to the pixies’ tiny voices. Fortunately the hut was on ground level, sparing them a death-defying leap. _Otto's Irresistible Dance_ , Dekaras thought as he hurried along. _Marvellous spell, that. It won't keep her forever, but it doesn't have to. Only a few moments more…unless I've miscalculated…and I'd better not have._

“Hey!” a voice called out as the two children raced past the gate to Baba Yaga’s domain. “Don’t forget your promise, kiddies!” 

Not pausing to speak, Dekaras snatched the talkative skull off its stick and stuck it beneath his arm, then ran as fast as he could down the Road of Bones, Poppy just ahead of him. “I sure hope you’ve got some kind of plan ready, kiddies,” the skull said. “Baba Yaga will be coming after you soon, and she sounded really angry.” 

“Thanks so much for the moral support,” the boy snapped. “Any other encouragement you wish to offer?” 

“I could describe what she usually does to people who annoy her. That ought to make your little legs move faster…” 

"Oh, just go stick a stick up your sinuses…" 

By now there was a rumbling sound behind them, rapidly rising in pitch and volume. Baba Yaga must have broken free of the spell, and now she was hunting for them. But not for long. Finally, finally, the ring began to glow again, as he had thought it would. Just in time too. Twisting the ring, he spoke out loud. "To the lake of the Rusalka who owns the magic mirror." He visualised the lake as clearly as he could, grabbing his Best Friend's hand, and then the magic storm raged once again. 

This time, it actually worked. The children found themselves standing near the dark lake of the Rusalka, and they no longer could hear the sound of Baba Yaga's mortar racing across the sky. 

"We did it!" Poppy said. "We're safe!" 

“We’re not out of Rasheman yet,” Dekaras said. “I won’t relax until that happens. We have bought some time, but we'd better hope that mirror does what it's supposed to, and soon.” He shook his head. "I really wonder why the magic worked this time, and not before? I thought I did everything in the same manner…" 

As the children once again neared the lake of the Rusalka, she rose from the water to greet them, her long green hair flowing down her back like a waterfall. This time she was closer to the shore, and her entire upper body was visible in all its naked glory. 

“Hubba hubba!” the skull, whom Poppy had decided to call ‘Mr Cranium’ said. “You know, it’s at times like this that I really wish I had a body…” 

The Rusalka didn’t seem to mind this, but smiled at the children instead. “You have returned safely!” she exclaimed. “And with my Mirror too – truly, you have done very well.” 

“Will you show us how to get home now?” Poppy asked. “Adventuring is fun and all that, but right now there’s this angry witch who might be coming for us any minute and I miss my own bed too.” 

“Of course,” the Rusalka said. “I will do whatever I can to aid you. Just give me my mirror, and we shall see what I shall see.” 

Anxious not to waste any time, the young Dekaras waded into the water, wincing a little at the coldness that seemed to reach his waist in no time, and at the slimy bottom sucking at his feet. “Here you go,” he said, holding the mirror out to the Rusalka, feeling an odd little tremor as he looked into those alien green eyes. 

“Thank you, _vadja_ ,” the Rusalka said, reaching out to touch his face with fingers that were cold and a little slimy, but strangely gentle. “Now let me see…” She looked into the mirror for a few moments, then frowned. “That is odd. The mirror tells me that you have the means to go home already, right there on your hand.” She pointed at the magical ring. 

“But I’ve tried using it!” the boy protested. “And every time it goes wrong. Except this last time, coming here.” It was too much. Really, it was too much. To have gone through all of that, only to be right back where he started. It was enough to make him wish that he was still able to cry, except of course that he couldn’t very well let Poppy down by going to pieces on her. 

“Let me think about this,” the Rusalka said, looking into the mirror once more. “It should be simple enough. You simply need to order the ring to take you home.” 

“But I did…” And then he fell silent. _I didn’t…did I? I thought I did, but when I thought ‘home’ I was still thinking of Rasheman. Back in Thay, when I wanted to get away, I wanted to go home. And that’s where the ring took me. Sort of. And then, the second time I used it, I still did the same thing, thinking of Rasheman as home. But it isn’t. It hasn’t been for a long time and it’s time I realized that. When I tried to come here though, to the lake, there was no conflict, and so it worked. I should have guessed it sooner. Still…it was good seeing Rasheman one more time, despite everything. I had missed it a lot and I don’t suppose I’ll ever come here again_. “I see,” he said. “Yes…yes, I think I can get us home now. Thanks.” 

“You are welcome, child. But…are you sure you have to leave?” A yearning look crossed the Rusalka’s lovely face, and she sighed a little. “I told you how I miss my own little one…I would so like to have children of my own again. Please, will you not stay? Both of you? I sense that same loneliness, that same longing. You have no true home, or you would not have come here, is that not so? Say that you will stay, that you will let me be your mother.” 

Her words struck a cord within the boy, and he stood motionless, watching the sad face that hovered above him, framed by hair like long grass. _Mother? No…I have no mother. Not anymore._

“No!” Poppy loudly protested. “We need to go home now, and we have a home, so there. Stop trying to trick us!” 

The Rusalka shook her head. “I am not trying to trick you, little one. You are free to go if you wish. But your friend…I wonder if he is so eager? He is lost in a sense that you are not, girl, in the same sense that I am. If he were to give you that ring, you could use it to go home. He could remain behind – if he wanted to.” 

“No he doesn’t! He’s going home with me!” 

“Is he? Shall we ask him?” 

Those green eyes, beckoning him forward. The voice was so soft, so comforting. And there was a gentle touch, fingers stroking his cheek, leaving behind a trace of dank water. _Mother?_ There was a soft embrace just ahead, waiting. He took a hesitant step towards it. _I want…_

Another voice, frantic and shrill, somewhere behind him. “Dekkie, listen to me, please! If you go with her, she’ll drown you, you know that. Please, come back!” Splashing noises of somebody wading out into the water behind him, green eyes just ahead. 

“Come with me, child,” the green eyes beckoned. “You know you yearn to forget.” The water was up to his chest by now. 

“No!” the voice behind him screamed. “Come back!” Fingers clutching his arm, holding it tightly. “I’m not letting go! I’m **never** letting go!” 

Green eyes ahead. Desperate hands behind, hugging him. _I want…what do I want? I need…I need…I need to go home. That's what I need. And home…is not here._ The fogs in his head cleared. “Poppy?” 

The halfling was clinging to him desperately, practically in tears. “I thought you were going to go with her, I really did, and if you tried I’d have to hit you over the head to stop you, and I really wouldn’t want to hurt you, but I’m not letting you go off and get yourself drowned and…” 

“I’m not getting drowned. Don’t worry.” He looked at the Rusalka. Her eyes were even sadder than they had been before, and she was retreating further out into the water. “Why did you do that?” 

“I am sorry, child,” the Rusalka whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “I did not mean to harm you, but I miss my little one so…I forgot myself for a moment. I only wanted to be a mother again.” 

The boy bit his lip, not wanting to remember the sensations evoked by those green eyes. “I don’t need a mother,” he finally said. “Not anymore. But thanks anyway.” _I don’t. I really don’t. I might want one, but I’ll soon grow out of that as well, I’m sure. I hope so._ He slowly backed out of the water, not taking his eyes off the Rusalka until he was once again on solid ground. “I’m sorry,” he said, not being sure exactly what he was apologizing for. 

“Thank you, child,” the Rusalka said. “I wish you a safe journey, both of you. But until you are able to travel once again, I place you both under my protection. Not even Baba Yaga can touch you, so long as you do not leave the shores of this lake, for here I rule alone and my power is greater than even hers.” With that, she slid beneath the surface of the water and was gone, not even a ripple marking her passage. 

The children sat on the shore for a few minutes, watching the lake, not paying much attention to the fact that they were both sopping wet. “Would you have gone with her?” Poppy finally asked, her voice serious. “If I hadn’t been here, I mean?” 

He hesitated a little before answering. “I don’t know…I think I might have.” Then he looked her straight in the eyes, smiling a little. “I’m glad you **were** here.” 

The halfling’s dimples immediately reasserted themselves as she gave him a happy smile. “’Course I was. I’m your Best Friend, I’ll always be here. Or wherever you are. It'll be good to go home now though, won't it?” 

“Yes,” Dekaras said, getting to his feet. He stood, watching the black lake, the tall trees around it and the long shadows. Remembering the plains, with the grass waving in the wind, and the tall mountains. Once, this had been home. But no longer. It was time to leave it behind for good. “Yes. It will be good to go home.” 

This time, once the ring had once again recharged, the rush of the summoned magic seemed stronger than before, more directed and full of purpose. Within seconds, the two children found themselves sitting in the middle of an expensive silk carpet, dripping lake water, slime and mud all over it and utterly ruining it. “We’re back!” Poppy whooped. “We’re back, we’re back, we’re back!” 

“So it seems,” said Luca Gorbia’s voice right above them, and as they turned around they could see the Guildmaster’s tall legs towering up to eventually give way to his annoyed face. “And now perhaps you would care to tell me where you have been, and why you see fit to ruin my furniture? Not to mention where you dug that revolting skull up.” 

“Hey hey!” Mr Cranium said. “Don’t talk this skull down, I have a nasty bite, and you shouldn’t be standing broad legged right about my teeth!” 

For some reason this struck the children as immensely funny, and they broke down in relieved laughter, allowing themselves to droop into a boneless heap of arms and legs, laughing uncontrollably at their escape from certain death. _We’re home_ , the young Dekaras thought. _We’re really home. And now I know it. I won't forget it again. But I won't forget where I came from either. I tried to forget what I knew about magic, because it hurt to remember, since I didn't think I could use it at all anymore. But it was mage sight that saved us in Baba Yaga's house. And knowing what spell that Witch was casting, that helped too. And remembering that bit of herbal lore about Fool's Rule, we never would have got away without it. You never know when knowing something may save your life. It was stupid of me to forget that, but I won’t do it again. Some day I may have need of the things I was taught._

It was a few hours later, and the boy had retired to his room, changed out of his wet and dirty clothes and managed to get some sleep, something he had only achieved after threatening to put a candle inside Mr Cranium’s cranium and using him for a lamp if he didn’t stay quiet. He had finally been able to have the magical ring removed as well, courtesy of the Guild's resident Priest of Mask. Having only just woken up again, he was surprised to find something on the floor next to the door. An envelope. Frowning, he pulled out the letter, marveling at the elegant calligraphy, and read. 

_Child,_

_I cannot begin to express my relief at hearing that both you and your friend have returned safely. My scryings could not seem to locate you properly, and I feared that you had perished. Had you done so, the blame would have been mine, my lack of perceptiveness driving you to such desperate measures._

_I would like to apologize for what must have seemed like an unforgivable intrusion. I had only the best of intentions, but sometimes that does not help. However, believe me when I say that I was never repulsed by you, rather by what was done to you. Such a heinous crime shocked me to the core, especially since I have seen something similar done once before. A friend of mine, one condemned for certain crimes, received a punishment similar in nature. Despite the terrible things he had done, I could not stand for such, and I choose to become an outcast rather than be a part of it, rather than to support the Queen who would order such. That, by the way, is how I lost my eye. I am sure you must have wondered._

_Though my friend’s punishment was perhaps even more devastating than yours, the difference lies in that you were entirely blameless. Never think otherwise. The thought that you might feel shame about it tempts me towards most un-elven thoughts of violence about the people who committed this travesty._

_That said, there is something I wish you to have. My time here is done, and I will leave tonight. If you come and see me before I go, I will leave certain items to you. Some of my books, including a spellbook, various components, a couple of wands and some other miscellaneous things. I know you may feel tempted to reject this offer, but please consider it. Though you may not be able to use them as you once would have, knowledge is power. I would urge you to gather all the knowledge you can, and to remember what you have learnt. There may come a time when you will find those skills useful in some way you cannot even conceive of now._

_All my best wishes,_

_Emalen_

The boy sat thinking about the letter for some time, his black eyes a little distant as he tried to think it through. _He is right about not forgetting magic, of course. I guess I already knew that, but it helps to have somebody else say it as well. I will accept his gifts, and I will use them however I can. I will be who I am, but I won’t forget who I was either. Never again_. The bit about guilt he wasn't quite so sure about. Somewhere deep inside, a nagging little voice insisted that surely he wouldn't have been punished if he hadn't done something wrong? Having a grownup say otherwise helped, sure. But it didn't entirely settle the issue. Emalen hadn't been there, after all. And he was a grownup, which meant he wasn't to be entirely trusted. Still, the voice was much more quiet than it had been before, and on a conscious level he was able to ignore it for the moment. 

He stuffed the letter into his pocket and headed out the door, a small smile on his face. Already he could envision many exciting things that might be done with those spell components. _But first I think I’ll ask Poppy if she wants to play some Hide and Seek. Or maybe break into the kitchens and search for cookies, or do that sword swallowing practice that we’ve been planning to get around to, or…_

The black-haired boy wandered off down the corridor, his mind pleasantly buzzing with a dozen different possible clever plans. He had a feeling this was going to be a good day, and it was very good to be back where he belonged once more. _I guess there really is no place like home._


End file.
